


The Man in the High Castle

by g1nymede



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Ancient History, Angst, Book 5: Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix, Dark Draco Malfoy, Draco Malfoy Has a Sibling, Drama, F/M, International Confederation of Wizards (Harry Potter), MACUSA | Magical Congress of the United States of America, Murder, Mystery, Order of the Phoenix (Harry Potter), Powerful Draco Malfoy, Wizarding Politics (Harry Potter)
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-04-07
Updated: 2020-09-09
Packaged: 2021-03-01 20:48:05
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 7
Words: 33,046
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23533300
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/g1nymede/pseuds/g1nymede
Summary: Draco learns from Grindelwald how to avenge his mother after Voldemort murders her. Book 5 OotP-AU. Dramione.
Relationships: Ariana Dumbledore/Gellert Grindelwald, Draco Malfoy/Original Female Character(s), Gellert Grindelwald & Draco Malfoy, Hermione Granger/Draco Malfoy
Comments: 28
Kudos: 100





	1. ONE

_"Whoever sheds the blood of man,_

_by man shall his blood be shed,_

_for God made man in his own image._

**—** **Genesis 9:6**

* * *

Draco woke with a start. He was confused what had woken him since the room was still clouded in darkness - the house-elves hadn't yet drawn the curtains, seemingly not daring to wake their master on his first day at home. A hand grabbed his leg and shook him, more urgently this time.

"Draco, wake up."

His mother was sitting at his bedside, her face barely visible. "Draco sweetheart, wake up!"

"I only came back from Hogwarts yesterday mother! What is so important that it has to disturb my first day of holiday?" Draco asked angrily. He had left the Hogwarts-Express in a bad shape yesterday thanks to the combined efforts of the Golden Trio and the Weasley Twins who had all cast jinxes on him and his companions. _Stupid Diggory, stupid Scarhead - Dumbledore is once more making a fuss because the famous_ Boy-Who-Won't-Die _is telling another story. Famous Harry Potter and friends can_ _of course_ _hex whoever they want - I will show them..._

"Draco, it is important that you listen closely now!" Narcissa whispered, as if afraid someone listened.

"Fine." Let's _see what will disturb my holidays this_ _time._

"Your father is receiving a very important…guest for lunch. He asked especially for you, so be ready at the table in one hour.

"And dress in a suit," Narcissa finished. Her grip on Draco's knee finally loosened. As she walked to the rich oak-doors, Narcissa said softly, "be at your best manners, _please_ " and left the room, leaving behind an confused Draco Malfoy.

**/**

The boy in the mirror stared back with a smirk that was so very characteristic for him - and yet, there was a tension the smirk was unable to mask. _Stop freaking out_ _—_ _it's probably just another rich wizard with a daughter my father wants me to befriend._ The boy in the elegant suit still looked unsure of himself. _But why does it have to be on the very first holiday? And why is mother reminding me to be_ at my best manners _?_ Draco wasn't able to assure himself, but the grand magical clock showed 1:50pm through the mirror's reflection, so he had no time to rethink it once more.

Standing before the elaborate doors that led to the dining room, he composed himself a final time. _Stop being nervous, you are Draco Malfoy, you are strong!_

When Draco entered the dining room, he saw that his nervousness was unfounded, for now at least. Narcissa and Lucius sat, facing each other, at the table. The seat at the head which Lucius normally occupied was left empty. _Strange._

"Draco, sit down please. _He_ has not yet arrived, so we will move the discussions. Sit down and eat," Lucius said curtly. Draco knew better than to ask who the guest was and why exactly they would eat without him; Lucius hated it when Draco asked him a question after he gave an order.

When Lucius snapped with his fingers, the house-elves started serving the meal. They ate in silence, as usual, and after the house-elves had emptied the table, they waited in silence. After a while, Lucius started looking to the entrance doors. Narcissa stiffened and sat straighter in her chair, looking at the doors as well.

The doors opened and a man entered, staring straight at Draco with scarlet eyes - a tall, inhuman looking man. _Nonono, that can't be right, it's one of Potter's lies! What is he doing here, what does he want from me?_

" _Draco._ " Voldemort had spoken to him. "My boy, there is something important to be discussed, and but I have very little time." Draco shuddered at Voldemort's voice. _He speaks like a snake._

"Yesterday," Lucius began after Voldemort had sat down at the table's head, "I offered the Dark Lord a possible solution to a very — _annoying_ — problem. I am sure you heard what happened at the end of the Triwizard tournament?"

Draco had indeed heard the story he believed, until now, to be a lie, like every student who listened to Dumbledore's speech at the end of the school-year, that Lord Voldemort had risen up again and Potter somehow managed to escape.

"I-I heard the story as told by Dumbledore."

"Ah." Voldemort hissed quietly, "then I am sure you know that it is vital to act quickly, now that _Dumbledore_ heard of my rebirth. Potter has to be removed, but he is well guarded outside of the school and while in Hogwarts, Dumbledore will watch his every step. Lucius came up with the idea that someone inside Hogwarts could lure him out. He assured me that you would be up to such a task."

_I have to lure Potter away from school under Dumbledore's nose? I will never be able to do that!_ "M-My Lord, how can I do that?" Draco tried to let his voice sound interested and confident, but it sounded nothing but terrified. Draco quickly looked to his father, silently pleading for help.

"You will," Lucius said angrily, "receive training over the holidays. When your new school year begins, you will be up for the task. You are, after all, an excellent student, _aren't you_?" The last part sounded more like a threat. "Of course I am, father."

Voldemort raised from his seat. "Then this is done. I am sure you will give your best Draco. This is a chance for your family to be honoured by Lord Voldemort above all others, you will better not fail. I will be informed about your progress."

**/**

Draco was still unsure if what he was doing now was wise, but he had no choice. Knocking on the doors to his father's study, he didn't need to wait long before he heard a curt "Come in."

Lucius sat behind his desk writing a letter, not looking up as Draco entered the room. For several moments all that was heard was the quill scratching across the expansive parchment. When he had finished the letter, Lucius carefully rolled it up and sealed it magically. "I have a lot of work to do Draco, what do you want?", Lucius asked, grabbing a new parchment. His father always did that when Draco disturbed him, _making me wait._

Not asking how he felt about the task, no words of explanation, nothing. Just like Draco had expected, through he had dared to hope otherwise. Draco would just say it straight away, his father would have to listen, he had to.

"Father, I can't do it."

Lucius picked up his quill and started writing again. "You can't do _what?_ "

"I can't do the task. I won't do the task!" As soon as the words left his mouth Draco knew that he had made a mistake. The scratching on the parchment had stopped. Lucius carefully laid down the quill, then stood up.

"I fear you don't understand the ongoing situation Draco. I think you don't understand _anything at all._ "

Lucius stood before Draco in three long steps, "I will enlighten you: The Dark Lord - as you will from now on always refer to him - will rule this country very soon. How you will pass in your OWL-exams won't matter anymore. _Loyalty and devotion_ to the Dark Lord and his cause will be everything. The Dark Lord is not only judging a person by his actions, but by that of his family members as well. What you will do will affect my reputation. All that will matter for you in the school-year is your contribution to the cause. Have I made myself clear enough?"

"Father _I can't do it!_ " Draco pleaded. Couldn't Lucius understand that he wasn't up to it?

"You will do it," Lucius growled, "or you will be punished. Training will start tomorrow, and I will make sure that you will be taught some courage. Get out of my office, _now_!"

Quickly pulling open the door, Draco hurried out of his fathers office. _I can't do it! Dumbledore will catch me and I will be thrown into Azkaban.._

_**/** _

Draco stopped his run when he reached the doors to his room, halting before them. _What now? Maybe I can read some spellbooks, prepare myself for tomorrow. I cannot fail father, I must not..._

"Draco." He turned around. Narcissa was walking to him, opening his door and hushing Draco in. She locked the door behind them.

"Draco, you will not do this mission. I won't allow it!" Narcissa said firmly. "I don't want to do it, but father says there is no other way, he says-"

"He thinks the Dark Lord is immortal after what happened at the tournament, he is sure the Dark Lord will rule the world one day. Lucius would risk everything to get a better standing in the Dark Lord's ranks. But he will not risk my son!"

Narcissa walked across the room and opened his wardrobe, "We are leaving - tonight."

"But Lucius does not want to flee! He won't-" "We are fleeing without him. He... he will rethink what is more important to him and follow us. He will find ways to escape from the Dark Lord's anger. We will be back soon enough." It sounded like Narcissa tried to convince herself as much as Draco.

"We will go to the cottage in Austria, in the Alps, where we stayed before the Quidditch-Worldcup. Lucius has never been there, no one will find us.

She threw a small black backpack at Draco. "Pack what you need in here, it is enchanted with an Extension-Charm. We will leave at eight o'clock."

Without giving Draco a chance to respond, Narcissa left the room.

**/**

Draco had finished packing at 4pm, which meant there were four hours left to think and debate with himself. He had more and more doubts about what could happen. Voldemort would be after them, they would have to go into hiding. And what if Lucius would not come after them? If he would simply announce them blood-traitors?

_Draco Malfoy, a blood traitor and coward who ran away the moment he had to stand up for himself._

And if all went well, if Lucius would protect them, what would happen next? Could Draco even safely return to Hogwarts?

Voldemort was killed by Potter that night in Godric's Hollow, but now he was back. It seemed like Voldemort was indeed immortal. What hope was there to survive if the enemy was invincible? Maybe he could indeed lure Potter away from Dumbledore, then his family would stay on the winning side. Draco would then serve Voldemort, he would have to do his bidding, maybe even kill someday.

His thoughts grew darker and darker.

When Narcissa knocked at 8pm, Draco wasn't sure anymore if fleeing was the right, the better decision for them.

"Don't waste any time now. Lucius seems to still be in his study, so we will walk out of the mansion and I will apparate us as soon as we cross the anti-apparition borders." Narcissa said as soon as she entered the room.

"O-Ok." Draco couldn't stop his hands from shaking. _Why is this happening? I can't do it nonono._ He picked up his backpack and shouldered it. _It's too late now, there is no other way - I won't do the task._

"One more thing Draco," Narcissa said. She took something from her coat pocked and held it to him. In her hand laid a long, triangular dagger. It was made of a shiny black metal with tiny runes engraved along the blade.

"It belonged to your Aunt Bellatrix. This is a very... special dagger, made of hardened goblin-steel. It might be useful."

Draco took the dagger wordlessly and put it on his belt. It was the first time he really realized that they were really in danger, that he was no longer protected. _Don't worry, it will all be okay, it will be!_

_**/** _

Today was truly a beautiful day. It was warm, but not warm enough that you needed to search for a cool place to spent your free time. It was the perfect time to watch the just starting sunset. Draco would've spent such a day on his broom, enjoying his holidays.

Instead, he and Narcissa walked through the vast gardens of the Manor, going to the entry gates that marked the anti-apparition borders.

"Listen Draco, as soon as we cross the borders, I will apparate us. You just need to hold on my arm and think of the destination, okay? As long as you site-along, nothing can go wrong."

"Yes," Draco said. They were just a few meters from away from the gates. "I've read about apparation, it doesn't look so difficult. Lets just hurry before someone-"

"Well," a cold voice said behind them. "It looks like the Dark Lord was indeed right about you, Narcissa."

Draco stopped. A cold breeze went through him, his body was frozen. _No, we were so close._

Narcissa and Draco turned around. "And how did you knew," Narcissa asked. She tried to remain calm, but her fear was audible in every syllable.

Lucius had his wand pointed at Narcissa. "The Dark Lord is an accomplished Legilimens. He knew that Draco was afraid and unwilling and he also knew that you wanted to protect Draco from us. The Dark Lord knew that you were trying to escape with Draco today. He-," Lucius looked away, as if ashamed of his next words. When he continued to speak, his voice lacked the previous arrogance.

"He also told me the appropriate punishment for both of you. Draco will be sent to another loyal Death-Eater, who will make sure that Draco will learn the consequences of his actions and will be ready for his task when the school-year starts. And you," Lucius lifted his wand higher, "you will be punished by a loyal minion of the Dark Lord."

Another figure had appeared behind Lucius - a large, bulky man, walking strangely crouched, taking small, fast steps. The face of the man was plastered with scars. He had a mad grin on his face with long, yellow teeth shining in the sunset. But Draco's attention was turned on the man's hands. He had thick, tapered fingers, with strangely mutilated nails that looked more like _claws - this thing has claws instead of hands._

Narcissa stiffened besides Draco. She grabbed his wrist and pulled him back behind her.

"You know me, heh?" the man laughed. "Then you also know that running is pointless with me. It looks like your son hasn't yet heard about me, so let me introduce myself: I'm Fenrir Greyback, and I'm making sure that all mudbloods and blood-traitors get what they deserve. The Dark Lord told me I could have your mother, boy. Told me I should teach her a lesson. Now, you stand put and watch what happens to wrong-doers." Greyback moved forward slowly, licking his lips.

_"Stupefy!"_ , Draco had quickly pulled out his wand and yelled the first spell that came to his mind. His hand was shaking so badly that the spell barely graced Greyback's right shoulder. In a blink of a second, Greyback changed targets and went for Draco in one mighty leap.

Draco turned around and ran - too late. It felt like long knifes tore open his backside when Greyback's claws teared over his back. All air left his lungs when the mighty strike pressed him into the ground - he couldn't even scream in pain. He tried desperately to get up, to run away, but he couldn't move. _Is this how dying feels like? It hurts, it hurts so much, please let it end!_ But he couldn't speak, he couldn't plead.

Greyback breathed down his neck, his bulky frame towering over him. Draco could see Greyback's face - his mouth opened, a hungry look in his yellowish eyes. Draco tried to stand up once more but fell down again before he had even managed to get on his knees. Draco felt something thin and sharp pressing against his right thigh. He felt it with his hand, he could-

A yell tore through the night, Greyback stumbled and screamed. "Get away from my son!" _Mother! Mother please make it stop, it hurts so much..._

Another scream, but this time it was a woman's voice. "Think I'm going down that easily you cunt!" Another scream, and another.

Draco moved an arm under his chest and pushed himself upwards. The first thing he saw when he turned around was Greyback, looking, bent down, on his mother, who had wounds all over her body. Greyback's claws were on her thighs, wandering upwards between her legs- "NO!"

What he did next was a mere instinct, a need to protect his mother; Tumbling forward, Draco ran to Greyback and his mother, he had lost his wand when Greyback attacked him, so he pulled the dagger from his belt, the only weapon he had. Greyback was right before him, still fixed on his mother. Draco lifted the dagger and rammed it with all his force into Greyback.

Blood spluttered in Draco's face. Greyback stumbled and fell, Draco falling with him. Bellatrix's dagger protruded from the werewolf's throat, blood spluttering out of the wound like from a fountain.

Draco stared in shock at the dagger. He had just killed someone, he was _a murderer._

A whimper tore Draco's gaze away from the dying man. "Mother, nononono please. Mother get up!"

Narcissa lay on the ground, large wounds scattered all over her body, blood running from her mouth- "NO! Mother you have to get up!" He couldn't lose her, she was everything he had. She had to-

"Draco," Narcissa whispered, "Draco you must- run. Draco go." Her hand had gripped Draco's holding tight to it. "Draco you must leave me. Draco you must go on, always go on _promise me._ "

The grip on Draco's hand loosened. Draco held on tighter _I can't let go, I must hold on._

_"Promise me Draco._ " Draco's vision became blurred, tears were running down his face. "I promise mother, I will go on always! _I promise._ Please get up, please!" He tried to pull her up, to help her stand- but the grip on his hand loosened, her arm fell down to her side, her eyes looked through him, no longer seeing him.

Draco started to sob uncontrollably, it went through his whole body, he felt the wounds on his back with each shake. _Let it end now, please make it stop!_

"I must say, I am impressed," a cold voice said.

Draco looked up. His father was standing a few meters before him, wand drawn, his ash-pale face contorted and unreadable.

"I wished you didn't do that. The Dark Lord ordered for me to dispose you in case you resisted. I fear killing Greyback counts unmistakable _resistance_." Lucius lifted his wand, pointing it at his son. Lucius' hand was shaking badly. How could his father do that? His wife's body laid before him and he had his wand pointed at him.

"So now you are killing your son as well," Draco sobbed. He wished he would be standing brave against his father, showing resistance. He wished he were been braver.

"The Dark Lord ordered me to do it. Either... Either I will do as ordered, or he will kill us both. Your faith was sealed the moment you disobeyed him. I won't die for your mistakes. The Malfoy family won't die for your mistakes."

"What family?" Draco yelled, "you murdered your wife, now you are about to murder your son! There will be no one left for you." _Please make it all stop, please_

" _I will be left!_ I can have a new wife, I can have another child, like before." _What?_

"The Dark Lord is all-mighty," Lucius whispered, "he told me about his powers. There is no chance of resistance, his way is the only way! I will rise to power, I am his right hand, you are but a hindrance." Lucius voice became louder and louder with each word.

"I AM YOUR SON!" "You are a blood-traitor, like your mother. You are no family of mine." The wand pointed at Draco was lifted higher. Draco frantically thought about about a chance to escape, a chance to survive.

His mother's lifeless eyes stared through him, her body already paling. But there, right beside her, lay something, a piece of wood, a lifeline. Draco heard his father yelling a spell. He dived forwards, grabbing the wand, the whitish spell Lucius had cast flying above him, Draco could feel it humming over his neck.

_"Stupefy!"_ , Draco screamed, his mother's wand pointed at Lucius. His father fell forward, the eyes wide open in shock.

Draco stood still, his arm aloft, gazing down at Lucius. What should he do know? His mother was gone, there was no one to protect him, no safety - only uncertainty and darkness before him. How could this have happened? How could he lose everything he held dear in just a few hours? _Mother, what can I do, mother!_

He couldn't bring himself to look at Narcissa, at his mother, laying dead before him, her clothes cut to ribbons, Greyback's body still laying beside her. _Always go on, promise me._

How could he break his promise, dishonour the last words his mother spoke to him? She had died protecting him, _she died for me._

What could he do? Voldemort would be after him as soon as he found out what happened. He couldn't stay here, Lucius would wake up very soon, he had to leave, he had to go far, very far away. _We will go to the cottage in Austria_.

Right! But he had no Portkey, he had never apparated. _I read it in the_ _spell-books_ _, just think of the location, remember where you want to go, and turn. I could splinter, but there is no other way, I have to try it, I promised..._

Draco looked around him — there lay his backpack, with all the things he packed. He walked with effort to the backpack and picked it up — with every step his back screamed, the wounds burning like a thousand knifes, boring into his body, making him gasp in pain. _Have to go on..._

Having shouldered it, he made his way to Greyback's body. The knife his mother gave him was still deep inside the werewolf's throat. Draco gripped the handle — and pulled. The smacking, sickening sound made Draco vomit all over Greyback's body.

Draco tumbled away quickly; the mixed stench of blood and vomit was unbearable.

There was one more thing to do before he left behind his old life. Draco knelt down besides his mother, closing her eyes. He kissed her on her forehead, his tears pooling like raindrops on Narcissa's pale face. "I'm sorry mum, please forgive me."

He got up quickly, unable to bear it any longer. Draco walked to the gates, just a few meters away. _Why couldn't they come a minute later? Just a minute, we would've escaped, she would've escaped._

Draco stood behind the apparition borders, the great iron gates to the Malfoy Manor throwing its shadows over him, as if the cold marble palace that Draco had called his home would now, that he left it behind him, call him back, offer him into a life that was lost forever now.

_Just like in the books: Wand aloft, destination in mind, turn. Wand, destination, turn. TURN!_

Nothing happened, he tried it three, four, five times, nothing happened. _Concentrate, think of the cottage and TURN_

Draco felt the magic through him, but he still stood at the gates, still in Scotland, still just a few meters away from his mothers body. He concentrated and again, he felt a tingle through his body, a sign that something did happen, that maybe he could do it.

He heard a rustle behind him, then a groan — a very familiar groan. Lucius had woken up. Draco was so close to escaping, he couldn't stop now.

_Destination, turn. Destination, TURN. TURN!_

A tingle, a spark in his fingertips. Lucius slowly rose up, groaning loudly once more. _TURN!_ Lucius saw Narcissa's body, then quickly turned around, seeing Draco- _TURN. Destination. TURN!_

His father started to run forward, he would reach Draco in a few seconds. _A cottage, high in the Alps. A little garden before it, a stone way leading up to the house. I want to land on the stone way, right at the entry-_ Lucius had reached the gates, pushed them open- _in Austria, in the Alps. TURN!_

Draco felt light, as if his whole body was weightless. He saw Lucius, just a few meters away, the gates were opened, his hand already outstretched, ready to leap forward — then everything swirled before his eyes. Draco tumbled — and landed on soft snow.

He just laid there, the snow melting under his face, unbelieving that he really escaped, that Draco was still alive. Slowly, carefully, he looked up — and saw nothing.

The landscape was hulled in thick, unyielding fog — Draco could barely see his own feet. He walked in circles around himself, searching for the stone way that had to be there, that led up to the cottage. Panic flooded his mind. Draco walked faster in his circles, went on the ground and felt with his hands for the way, stood up and walked again. _It has to be here, somewhere here!_

Draco stopped in his trackers, put down his backpack and sat down. The surrounding snow was spluttered with droplets of his blood, blood that was still trickling down his back onto the ground. The pain that had subsided in his excitement now came back with full force. He felt the coldness biting into his skin, adding to the pain in his back, numbing him further...

_I have to warm myself or I will freeze to death soon. I will just search tomorrow, without the fog all over._ He had dropped both the wand and the dagger beside him, so he quickly pulled his wand into his numb hand, pointed it at himself and muttered a heating charm. Draco couldn't focus so the heating charm barely had any effect.

He repeated it a few more times before he pulled the next best piece of clothing from his backpack, quickly pulling the hoodie over his torn T-Shirt. He pulled on a few more clothes until he found himself no longer shivering, then dropped the remaining clothes on the mixture of melting snow and dirt that made the ground.

Laying down on his makeshift bed and covering himself with a T-Shirt and a thin jacket, Draco started to cry again. He realized that he was alone in the middle of nowhere, injured and without any plan on how to continue. _Think. You can't give up, you promised!_

Okay, so he didn't know where he was, but he still had his wand. _I can apparate._ But Draco missed the location the first time, what if he splintered himself this time? _I can still try my luck and then search for the nearest wizarding community, then I will owl Dumbledore. He will help me, he helps every student!_ But Voldemort would be on his tail the moment he entered the wizarding world. The Death-Eaters would find and kill him immediately. _I will have to find out where I landed. I can't be this far away from the cottage, I am somewhere in the Alps, somewhere..._

He had no answer, he didn't know what to do, but Draco needed sleep, he needed to rest, to let his wounds heal. He huddled together, clutching the clothes to his chest and closed his eyes.

Draco was alone, without any family and friends to help him. He had no hope, nothing to life for, but one thing, _revenge._ The need to avenge his mother was all that kept him alive, all that prevented him from taking the dagger and thriving it through his heart. _I can't die, not yet._

_**/** _

"How could the boy escape?" "I-I'm so sorry, my Lord! My confidence wavered, it won't happen again, I will find Draco personally! He apparated the first time." The man fell down on his knees in front of his master. His dead wife laid to his right — he had held her when his master appeared, lost in thoughts of regret and shame.

"He probably died, splintering himself." His voice was quiet at the end, barely more than a whisper.

"I have to be sure of it," Voldemort said. The man cowered before him, not daring to look up into the scarlet eyes of his lord.

"Where is your usual arrogance Lucius? Aren't you usually the first to offer yourself when Lord Voldemort requires a task to be done? Look at yourself! The moment you face a challenge you waver like the coward you are." The man didn't dare to look up. He cowered in the dirt, next to his wife.

"You are no longer loyal to me, no longer committed to the cause. I allowed you to be my right hand, confided you into my plans. You know too much to turn against me, Lucius." "My Lord, I would never-" "You failed to kill your son once, Lucius. You will fail again."

"Please, I-" there was a flash of green light. The man fell backwards.

Lucius Malfoy died besides his wife who he had betrayed.

**/**

An unbearable pain shot through him as Draco tried to move. The make-shift clothing had kept him warm well enough, but his back, which had seemed like it was starting to heal, was hurting just as bad as when it was torn open.

_You idiot, the wound is probably infected! You should've washed it out, you should've..._ But Draco couldn't go down this spiral of thoughts. _What if_ 's and _should have_ 's would only lead to what happened to his mother, how he hadn't stopped it. If he had just- _you must go on..._

What could he do now? He had to find out where he was, but the Alps were huge and there was no way he would be able to climb with his infected wounds. _Find out where you are. You've been in the Alps before, maybe some mountain looks familiar..._

Slowly, carefully, Draco shifted and turned. He gasped at what he saw.

Just a few hundred meters before him, on top of the mountain he was currently on, a gigantic grey tower rose up high into the sky.

Draco stared at it for a while in absolute stupor before he quickly stood up. The pain of his wounds temporarily forgotten in his newfound hope, Draco gathered the clothes in his bag and started to walk.

It had first looked like the tower was just a five-minute walk away, but for Draco it felt like an hour. The bag scrubbed over his wounds at every step, it became more and more difficult to walk, the weight on his shoulders felt heavier and heavier.

_I'm nearly there, everything will be good when I enter this tower-castle._ This castle would offer a solution, something would be in there to help him, _it has to._ The tower was before him finally, a door was right there, something would be behind it to save him.

Draco felt something he hadn't felt since that dinner that ruined his life, _hope._ The door was right in front of him, a grey, handle-less door with a strange triangular symbol etched into the center.

If Draco would've paid attention in Professor Binns' class, he would've known that a grey tower in the Alps could only be one tower and that it's owner was imprisoned in it. But Draco had exchanged notes with his classmates instead, so he had no idea where he was.

He stretched out his hands to the recessed door. As soon as he touched the cool grey stones, the door started to melt away and finally vanished into nothingness. Draco stared at the long black way before him for a second before he started to walk, unknowingly entering Nurmengard Castle.

**/**

A dozen floors above the newly orphaned boy, a frail man began moving on his stone bed. He felt the wards that he had installed so long ago shifting. The man stretched and rose slowly, his differently coloured eyes glowing in the pale sunlight that shone through the tiny slot of his prison cell. _Finally,_ Grindelwald thought.


	2. TWO

_"But are not the dreams of poets and the tales of_ _travellers_ _notoriously false?_

**—** **H. P. Lovecraft**

* * *

It was silent for some time in the dining room at 12th Grimmauld Place after Severus Snape ended his report.

"And is there any information about Draco's whereabouts?" Dumbledore said, finally breaking the silence.

"There has been nothing but rumours about what happened to the Malfoys. The only fact is that the bodies of Narcissa, Lucius and Greyback were found by the Ministry." Snape said curtly.

"He could've escaped," Kingsley said in his deep, calm voice. The other persons at the table — the Weasley parents, Sirius Black, Moody and Lupin — didn't seem sure of that.

Dumbledore looked at his fingers for a few seconds before he spoke - the table fell silent at once. "If Draco has indeed escaped, he will be in hiding now, hunted and alone.

"How could he have escaped?" Dumbledore asked Snape. "Well, if Draco just ran away, he will be somewhere in England now, with the Death-Eaters searching for him. He could've used a Portkey or something similar, in this case, he will be out of the Dark Lords reach for now.

"There are some theories under the Death-Eaters why the Malfoys were killed. Most say that one of them had been disloyal, maybe even tried resistance. Some of them believe that Lucius planned to make Draco participate in the Death-Eaters activities."

"I don't believe that!" Molly said at once, "what kind of father would make his fifteen-year-old son a Death Eater?" "A father who wants his son to raise in the Dark Lord's ranks as fast as possible," Snape said.

"Still defending your old pal, _Snivellus_?" Sirius mocked. "At least I-" "This won't help us," Dumbledore calmly stated. Sirius and Snape fell silent, though they still exchanged hateful glares. Even though the two former classmates were now on the same side, the hatred still ran deep between them.

"We should all keep our eyes open for the boy — if he has escaped, he will seek help soon," Lupin stated.

"And even though it's unfortunate for the boy," Alastor Moody began, "Lucius death is be good for us. Voldemort-" Molly shuddered "has lost a well-connected servant. They lost a good part of their influence in the Ministry."

"What makes it even stranger that Voldemort has killed him," Dumbledore said. "We must investigate that further. Try to find out as much as you can, Severus."

The other Order Members nodded their approval.

Draco walked up the grand staircase to the next floor, heavily panting due to his wounds. He had skipped the first floor that led from the staircase, a sort of lobby with a vast amount of stairs, tables, and couches. The next floor, a gigantic library, was skipped just as fast. He searched through the third floor in hope of anything that might help him, which consisted of long shelves full of potions, ingredients, cauldrons and potion-books, but did not dare to take a potion yet. _After I've searched through the other floors..._

The fourth floor that he had just entered contained several luxurious rooms. The room he was currently in had a beautiful look onto the Alps, together with two leather seats, a fireplace and a king-sized bed. _I will sleep here if I find nothing else in this castle,_ Draco decided. But he couldn't sleep yet, even though he wanted nothing else as badly - he had to find something to heal him, this castle belonged to someone after all, someone who might help him. _I will offer him the money I have, no one would deny that._

He left the room and walked up the staircase, hopefully finding the owner of this castle. But instead of a next floor, the staircase simply ended; Before him was a wall with several small slabs led into it, each of them numbered. _Is this some kind of puzzle?_

Draco moved forward, touching the slab with _01_ engraved into it with his fingertips. The world swirled before his eye, he felt dizzy and then, suddenly, he stood before a long floor. _This was some kind of hub for the rest of this castle_ Draco realized.

A single slab was led into the wall beside him, without any number. _Hopefully to return to the staircase._ Draco looked back and walked along the floor. A dozen meters before him was a white marble door without any handle, just like the one at the entrance of the castle. Moving became more and more difficult, breathing even harder. The wounds felt like they were burning into him, deeper and deeper. _I have to get help, I won't hold much longer._

Draco reached the door and pressed his palm against it. The door melted away.

Behind it stood an old thin man, looking as if he had waited for Draco's arrival. The man wore a dirty grey robe, his sunken face stretched into a grin. The differently coloured eyes, one a dark brown, the other bright blue with a thin, even brighter whitish ring around the edge, looked at him with an intense, measuring stare.

"You did me a great service, boy." the man said with a raspy, hoarse voice. It sounded as if he hadn't used it in a long time.

"Who are you?" Draco asked carefully. _Don't show him your fear._

The man grinned even wider, "Have you been at school, boy?" he asked mockingly. _Should I know him?_ "Yes, I... have been." "Think, my boy — a fortress in the Austrian Alps with a single prisoner in it." The man seemed to become more and more amused by Draco's unawareness.

Austria, Alps — a fortress with a prisoner in-

_No, please not. I just escaped Voldemort, I- no, please!_ "Grindelwald, you are Grindelwald!" Draco yelled, quickly pulling out Narcissa's wand from his torn robes. " _Stupe-_ " The wand flew from his hands into Grindelwald's outstretched one before Draco could finish the spell. Grindelwald's right, blue-whitish eye glowed the moment he touched Narcissa's wand. He had disarmed Draco with nothing but a slight bend of his finger.

"The moment you opened the doors, the wards around my cell broke. I haven't used magic in a long time, but don't think for a moment I can't beat a schoolboy wandlessly." Grindelwald's grin had faded slightly, as if insulted by Draco's pathetic attempt to overwhelm him.

"I-I didn't mean to-" " _stun me?_ You meant to, but I don't hold that against you. I value honesty a lot boy, so I will only ask this question once: _what is it that you seek here?_ "

He wanted to stop the pain, he wanted his mother back, he wanted the prior day to be undone. "I-I just want my wounds healed." "And that is all? You chose to fight me instead of fleeing, I can see anger burning in your eyes. You have hatred inside you, but if your pain stops you from speaking freely, I will find it out the easy way."

Suddenly, Grindelwald's eyes widened, his eyes shined; Draco was unable to look away - images appeared in his mind _no, memories;_

His father chasing after him, Draco flying on his toy-broom

"-you filthy Mudblood!" Granger started to cry

"She beat you again!" Lucius slapped him across the face

Potter appeared before the crowd, clutching Diggory in his arms

Dumbledore held a speech in the Great Hall, announcing the return of Lord Voldemort

Voldemort's inhuman eyes stared at him. "-He assured me that you would be up to such a task."

He was running his dagger through Greyback's throat.

" _Promise me_ Draco!"

"-you are but a hindrance."

" _Stupefy!_ " Lucius fell down.

He felt light-headed, he turned, he felt lightheaded, he felt snow under his feet-

Grindelwald broke the eye-contact; Draco fell down on the cold stone floor — the world was reappearing before his eyes. "What did you do?!" Grindelwald didn't answer him, looking on the floor, seemingly lost in his thought.

Draco tried to get up, but his back started to burn again, each movement felt like he was tearing apart. The wounds felt worse and worse with each second, white spots appearing in his vision. Draco shifted, so he could at least sit upright on the ground, _better than nothing._ His eyes watered, he had to stop himself from sobbing after he had been forced to relive his mother's death.

"What a fascinating thing fate is. Indeed, it seems like you were meant to land here in Nurmengard." Grindelwald moved closer to him, stopping down.

"Now, Draco, what is it that you want? Your mother is dead, you are hunted by a Dark Wizard and currently in company of another one."

His mother was dead, he was alone. The person, the _monster_ who took it all, who was responsible was Voldemort. He corrupted Lucius, he ordered Greyback to kill his mother, he ordered his death, he was after him.

"Revenge. I want to kill V- _Voldemort!_ " Draco said loudly. Grindelwald's face was stretched into a grin again, his sunken features barely visible in the dimly lit cell.

"Now, that sounds more like man and less like a whining pup," Grindelwald said. "I can help you with that my boy, I can heal you and teach you and help you to kill Voldemort. The revenge could be yours.

"You seem like an intelligent boy, Draco. You can become powerful, very powerful. I can show you things you would never learn at Hogwarts, magic even Voldemort doesn't know."

Draco could learn all this, Grindelwald was powerful enough, he could teach him. But- "What do you want in return?"

The old man laughed, "You are not as naive as I feared. Well Draco, _my_ goals go beyond killing my enemies. But all in due time, we will save such discussions for another day. Right now, it seems you are suffering under the wounds of Greyback, infected werewolf wounds that will curse you permanently if they are not treated in the next few hours. Do you want to be taught by me, learn how to avenge your mother?"

He would learn Dark Magic, become powerful, he would _survive_. "Yes," Draco said.

"Good," Grindelwald said. He lifted Narcissa's wand and pointed it at him.

Draco felt water on his back, steaming hot water that burned over his wounds, squeezed itself into the infected flesh — he let out a strangled scream and then, in the next moment, it was all over. He laid panting on his stomach. There was no pain, no wounds he felt, it seemed like Greyback never happened. _Mother, I promised. I am going on!_

"Stand up, we got some work to do before you will rest," Grindelwald said, stepping over him and walking down the floor.

**/**

"Why are we in the potion-floor?" Draco asked carefully. Even though he was healed, he was still very tired. "Because I'm an old, weak man right now and I don't have the time to let my body regenerate naturally. I will create a potion that will speed the process up and regenerate me," Grindelwald answered without looking up from the ancient-looking potions book that he had studied the last ten minutes.

Grindelwald lifted his right hand and made a strange gesture — several ingredients in packages and bottles flew out of the shelves in the vast room, stacking themselves on the table. Draco had never seen wand-less magic used so casually.

"Now, to the most important part," Grindelwald said, dropping the book on the table which stood beside a large cauldron. He walked over to a shelf in the corner, picking up a small package that stood there.

"Nicolas Flamel created the Philosopher's Stone in the 14th century, after five years of extensive work on it. When he presented it to the public, he was nearly bankrupt. The government forbid him from selling the gold he could create, afraid of inflation, so all he could sell was the Elixir of Life." Grindelwald opened the box magically with a small movement of his hand, showing three tiny vials with a reddish liquid. "He sold around two hundred of them - I bought these here when I was twenty from an old Russian Salesman in Novosibirsk who inherited them, never knowing what he had possessed." Grindelwald stared at the vials with a strange look.

"I have never found a reason that was good enough to use them up," Grindelwald moved his right hand — all three vials uncorked, flew in the air and emptied themselves in the large cauldron.

Grindelwald added unicorn, dragon, and salamander blood. The other two dozen or so ingredients Grindelwald used were unknown to Draco.

After some time, Draco asked cautiously why he had to be here. "This potion will have to mature for a hour before I can finally take it. Your part comes now," Grindelwald answered without looking up from the crystal clear steam-less liquid inside the cauldron.

"Now, sit down on the chair" a chair appeared beside Draco "and relax. Empty your mind, don't focus on any emotion and don't think of any memory." Confused, Draco obeyed.

"From the memories that I saw, I conclude you are fifteen, is that right? "Y-Yes."

Grindelwald sat down in a chair opposite to Draco (which had also appeared out of thin air). "After a traumatic event, a lot of people develop Post Traumatic Stress Disorder, which will make them anxious, nervous — and quite useless. Since you are young, the chance that you will develop P.T.S.D is very high, but I can't have that. Your mind has to be at ease if you want to learn something.

"To prevent any mental illness as a result of the previous day, I will modify your memories. However, it is important that you remember what happened, hence I will try a different approach. I will change the way you remember the last day, so that it will be as if you see another person's memories, without feeling them."

Draco didn't like that idea at all, but it felt necessary if he wanted to have a nightmare-free sleep. "Will it be permanent?" Draco asked.

"No, you can change them back yourself when I taught you Legilimency." "What is-" "I will explain that when I teach you," Grindelwald said curtly.

Narcissa's wand flew into Grindelwald's outstretched hand with a snap of his fingers. He pointed it at Draco's head, and Draco slipped out of consciousness.

**/**

The Minister took a handkerchief from his suit pocket and wiped the thin layer of sweat from his brow. "And what do you think happened to them?" Cornelius Fudge asked.

"From the evidence provided by the Auror Department" Amelia Bones, head of Magical Law Enforcement, nodded to Rufus Scrimgeour, head of Auror office, and Kingsley Shacklebolt, who had found the Malfoys murdered in their garden, "we draw the conclusion that Fenrir Greyback, who was also found dead at the manor, murdered Lucius and Narcissa Malfoy and — possibly — Draco Malfoy. The analysis of Lucius and Draco Malfoy's wands suggested a fight. The wand of Mrs. Malfoy has not been found," Amelia Bones finished.

More sweat had appeared on the Minister's brow. "So, a werewolf who evaded capture for years attacks — seemingly without any motive - one of the greatest and most influential families in Great Britain. Is there any chance for the boy to be alive?"

Kingsley cleared his throat. "The vast amount of blood at the crime scene was analysed to belong to Draco Malfoy as well. If he has escaped, he is heavily wounded. The attack occurred two days prior and there is no sign of the boy yet - it is very unlikely that he is still alive."

"This means," the Minister began, choosing his next words _very_ carefully, "the estate of the Malfoy family has no rightful heir. After wizarding law, all properties of the family would have to be transferred to the Ministry, right?"

"I don't think the goblins at Gringotts see it like that." the head of M.L.A. said. "As long as there is no proof of Draco Malfoy's death, the estate cannot be transferred, neither by wizarding nor goblin law."

"Kingsley said it himself, there is no chance the boy is still alive! We should declare him dead so that all matters will-" "The goblins don't see declaration by the Ministry as proof, Minister." Rufus Scrimgeour interrupted.

"Right," the Minister mumbled. "But the manor can still be seized by the Ministry, can't it?"

"The manor is protected by ancient pure-blood spells. It will take us weeks, if not months, to break them."

"Right, right you are." The layer of sweat had appeared once more on the Minister's brow "Kingsley, you will build up a team to get into the estate and-" "I'm still assigned with the hunt for Sirius Black, Minister," Kingsley interrupted.

"Put that on hold!" Cornelius Fudge said angrily. "The worth of the manor could be well invested in the ministry."

"And the investigation?" Amelia Bones asked.

"Investigation? There is no investigation! A mad werewolf killed a highly prestigious and respected member of society! These creatures have no _motives_ and that's it! You are all dismissed."

After the three ministry officials left the room, the Minister let out a long sigh and wiped his brow again with the handkerchief. _What a day,_ the Minister thought.

**/**

Light shone onto his face. Draco blinked, slowly opening his eyes to the bright sunlight. He looked around, slowly taking in his surroundings. _Where am I?_ Draco thought until the previous day flooded into his mind. _That all really happened, I'm really inside Nurmengard Castle right now, with Gellert Grindelwald._

Draco got up from the hard wooden chair he had slept in, rolling his stiff and tense neck. The cauldron that had been filled with a crystal clear drought the day before was empty now. So Grindelwald had really used the remains of the Elixir of Life to make himself younger and regenerate. Slowly, Draco moved his hand to his back, feeling where the wounds had been that had nearly killed or infected him. Even through the wounds were healed, Draco could feel scars along his back. Making a mental note to inspect them thoroughly later, Draco walked out of the potion floor, down the stairs into the lobby where he guessed that Grindelwald waited.

And indeed, when Draco entered the grand lobby, a man stood before the windows, looking out onto the alps. Hearing Draco's footsteps, he turned around.

The man that looked at him now with arrogant grin looked nothing like the frail man that he met yesterday. The new Grindelwald looked around sixty, with prominent white-blond hair and a powerful, smug charisma.

"My experiment worked well enough, judging by the look of your face," Grindelwald said with a chuckle. "Did my modification on you work? How do you remember your mother's death?"

"My mother's... right she... _died!_ " How could he forget that, just two days after it happened? How could he walk down here, thinking only about training and becoming _powerful_. Draco could see it all before him, his mother dying, the sound Bellatrix' dagger made when it went through Greyback's throat, his father running after him when Draco had apparated. He could picture every detail, but didn't remember how it _felt_. As if he read about it in a book, hearing the details, knowing the story without understanding it at all.

"I-I remember it all, but-" "You don't feel it? That's exactly how I wanted it to be. After I taught you for some time, you can remove the barrier in your mind yourself. For now, you are ready to be trained."

"Right," Draco said, full of expectation. He sat down at the long table in the centre of the lobby, waiting for Grindelwald to start his teaching.

Grindelwald took his time before sitting down at the table opposite to Draco. "First, we need anonymous access to the wizarding world. Do you have a house-elf, one that is not bound to your father?"

"Yes — Wimpy. _Wimpy!_ "

With a loud _Pop!_ , a small female house-elf appeared at the top of the table.

"Wimpy, get down from the table," Draco said. "Okay, what now?" he asked.

"You," Grindelwald said to the fearful looking she-elf. "You will listen carefully now and remember every word I tell you: You will not give away the identity of me or your master at any time. You will apparate into the Daily Prophet's main office in Diagon Alley and buy the newest edition of the Daily Prophet, the New Yorker Ghost as well as _le journal volant_ and _der fliegende Bote_. After that you apparate into Flourish and Blotts and buy all books by Professor Bathilda Bagshot that are in any way about Lord Voldemort, Harry Potter, The First Wizarding War or related topics. Then you bring all purchases here and cook us some decent meal, the ingredients you will buy in advance. You will not, in _any way_ , give away who sent you."

The terrified she-elf made a tiny noise and looked up to Draco. Draco rummaged through the pockets of his torn clothing and gathered around a dozen galleons that he dropped before Wimpy. "Do as he says," Draco said shortly.

The house-elf hastily collected the galleons and was gone with another _Pop!_

"What now?" Draco asked. "Now, my boy, we will start with a bit of magic theory." Grindelwald said.


	3. THREE

_"Some are born great,_

_some achieve greatness,_

_and some have greatness thrust upon them._

**—** **William Shakespeare**

* * *

"Mum, has my newspaper arrived yet?"

"No Hermione, it hasn't- oh, there the owl is!"

Hermione sprinted down the stairs to the kitchen, quickly snatching the _Daily Prophet_ from the brown-feathered post owl. With a quick "Thank you mum!", Hermione sprinted up the stairs into her room.

It were just a few days since Voldemort's return, since Harry nearly- since he came out of the maze. Too early to hope for news in the papers, but some things, some _changes_ would have been made, wouldn't they?

Hermione gasped when she read the headline, _Albus Dumbledore voted out of the International Confederation of Wizards._

Albus Dumbledore, Order of Merlin (1st class), was voted out of the I.C.W. yesterday after knowingly telling lies before the I.C.W. and causing unrest under the fellow wizards of the Confederation. Cornelius Fudge, Order of Merlin (1st class) and Minister of Magic, welcomed this decision.

"After his many great deeds and contributions for the wizarding society, it is time for Dumbledore to retire. A man over a hundred years old should not lead an institution as complex and demanding as the I.C.W. Dumbledore should exit gracefully from his offices, as long as he still can." says the Minister from his office at the Ministry.

The _false stories_ and the following _unrest_ were probably his announcements of Voldemort's return, and now the Ministry tried to hide these facts. _They forced him out,_ Hermione realized.

She quickly turned to the next page. The headline that greeted her there was even worse. _Malfoy family murdered by werewolf Fenrir Greyback._

Draco Malfoy had always been an arrogant prat, and he had always hated her, just because she was Muggle-born — but he never deserved to be killed.

Lucius Malfoy was a powerful Dark Wizard, so how was it possible that a werewolf killed him and his wife and son? _It doesn't make any sense..._

And what if Voldemort ordered them killed? If Greyback was nothing but a cover for their deaths? But why would Voldemort kill his right-hand man? _That makes no sense either..._

The article said nothing about the werewolves motives. There was some rubbish about Sirius possibly organizing the murder to make a statement, but there were no facts, no useful information _at all._

"Hermione, there is another owl here," Hermione heard her mother calling her. "Coming mum!"

Confused, Hermione took the latter from her mother, watching as the owl landed on the dinner table before her.

_To Hermione Jean Granger_ was written on the envelope in entwined, handwritten letters. That's definitively not Ron's writing.

_Dear Miss Granger,_

_Due to the current circumstances, I would like to invite you to stay with Mr. Weasley and Mr. Potter at a special place, where you will receive some news about current events. If you accept my offer, a friend of mine will pick you up at your home in two weeks._

_In_ _hope, you_ _enjoy your holidays,_

_—_ _Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore_

Dumbledore invited her to stay with Ron over the holidays to _receive some news?_ That could only mean that they would be informed about Voldemort's movements.

"What does the letter say?" her mother asked.

"It's just-" Hermione couldn't tell her parents that Voldemort was reborn, they wouldn't let her return to Hogwarts. "Ron's family invites me to stay with them over the holidays. They would pick me up in two weeks — and Harry is there too."

"But Hermione, we only see you over the holidays." "Please mum, I've never been there and Ginny is there as well!"

Mrs. Granger smiled slightly. "Okay, but wait until your father agreed too before you write back."

Hermione quickly hugged her mother, "Thank you mum!"

**/**

"As a start, I will teach you the fundamentals of spell-craft. All that you learn at school is casting spells by using an incantation."

"Isn't that how spells are always cast?" Draco asked. He was sitting in one of the chairs in the lobby of the grand castle while Grindelwald stood before the windowpane.

"Spells can be cast in many ways. If magic would be just fidgeting around with wands while saying some words, wizards would be nothing more than Muggles with sticks. The wand is an innovation of the West-European wizards, it is not needed to use magic.

"You must understand how magic works, you will learn to cast spells nonverbal and wand-less. You will start learning nonverbal spell-casting now. Raise your wand, focus on the incantation and repeat it _in your head._ Don't speak a word."

So that was all the advice — focus on the spell and simply, _do it?_ Once more, he had no idea what do.

"Concentrate Draco! Nothing but focus is needed." Grindelwald stood before him, as intimidating as ever.

Slowly, Draco raised his wand, pointed it at a glass on the table before him and thought _Wingardium Leviosa._ Nothing happened. He tried two more times and again, he was unable to move the glass even the tiniest bit.

"You are not focusing. I can read all the thoughts swirling through your mind. Stop worrying if I will kill you, I would have done it already if I wanted to! Clear your mind, _focus_ on nothing but the spell. Remember the incantation, imagine the wand movement in your mind and _cast the spell_." Grindelwald turned around once more and looked out of the window.

Draco raised his wand, cleared his mind, and tried again.

About half an hour later Wimpy arrived carrying a large stack of books and the newspapers.

**/**

"Anything in the _Prophet?_ " Draco asked while still focusing on the levitation spell he was upholding.

Grindelwald sat at a table and scammed through the sites. "It seems your father was killed as well," he said, without any compassion.

The glass that Draco had just levitated fell down and shattered. "Lucius is dead?"

"Do I have to cast another memory charm now? Lucius was executed, I suspected as much — he failed his task after all. A disloyal Death-Eater in the higher ranks could be very dangerous for Riddle," Grindelwald said while still rummaging through the sites.

His father was dead as well? _He deserves it,_ Draco thought. He was responsible for his son being a homeless orphan, it was his fault, and he deserved it. But Lucius Malfoy was still his father, and now Draco was truly alone.

"So, I... I am the last Malfoy now. What does the Prophet say about me?"

Grindelwald chuckled, "Well, it seems you are declared dead as well. My guess is that they want your estate — that means we will have to act quickly to prevent it."

"Who are _they?_ " Draco asked. He was still unsure how he should feel, but somehow, there was no sorrow inside him, only relieve that he didn't need to face Lucius someday.

" _They_ are the government. When a wizard dies without an heir, his estate will be seized by the government. Do you have any other relatives with a claim to Narcissa's or Lucius' estate?"

"I..." Draco had relatives, but he had never met any of them.

"My mother's sister, Andromeda. She was disinherited when she married a Muggle-Born. My other aunt, Bellatrix Lestrange, is imprisoned for being a Death-Eater and Sirius Black was disinherited in his youth when he ran away, that's what my mother told me."

Grindelwald was quiet for a moment, then- "Lestrange's estate was transferred to your mother because she was a convicted war criminal and therefore, after wizarding law, lost all her possessions. That would explain the dagger your mother gave you."

Draco's dagger and all the things that he had taken from the manor were in his magically extended backpack, up in the potions-floor where he had fallen asleep. He made a mental note to get them later.

"That mean's the ministry has now seized all the money for themselves!" Draco hissed. All that was _rightfully his_ , gone? Was there nothing left of- "Not necessarily," Grindelwald said.

"Your manor with all its property will be seized by the ministry as long as you are declared dead, but without any _evidence_ of your death, Gringotts will not allow the ministry to seize the property of their customers. The goblin's have their own laws, untouched by humans. I can only guess at which time the goblins will accept you as dead."

Grindelwald put down the _Prophet_ and looked up at Draco. "You will go to Gringotts and get your money as soon as you are trained well enough. Gringotts guarantees anonymity for all costumers, but it will still be a risk. We will speak about it later, after I see sufficient progress in your training."

Draco wanted his money back _now_ _—_ it was his birthright. But he didn't dare to speak against Grindelwald's orders.

"The British newspaper contains no important information's except for the cover story. Albus was seemingly voted out of the International Congress, probably on orders of the British Minister. Seems like Cornelius hasn't got the balls to accept the threat that Riddle presents. This is good for us, at least for now, because Albus will be unable to act in public for the time."

"What is so important about the I.C.W.?"

"The Congress has a representative of every wizarding nation. International Laws are made there, discussions about crises and global threats happen there. Without the I.C.W., Albus will have it difficult to convince the other governments to support him.

"When action has to be taken internationally, the governments of the world orientate themselves after the six wizarding nations who founded the I.C.W. after the Global War and have a veto right. These nations are Great Britain, the USA, France, Germany, Russia and Japan. The Death-Eaters aren't yet a global threat, therefore the other five nations will not start any debate about something that is considered foreign politics. As long as Fudge denies the return of Tom Riddle, they won't bother convincing him otherwise."

_So, Fudge is against Dumbledore now._ "And what do we do now?" Draco asked.

" _I_ will read through the papers and then through the books about Tom Riddle to gather information, and _you_ will continue to exercise. The nonverbal spells work well enough so you will try wand-less magic next. When you are able-"

"I cannot do wand-less magic! You learn that in your Auror training, not-" A sharp jolt went through his whole body — it felt like a lightning bolt hit him. "Don't interrupt me," Grindelwald said quietly, "it will hurt much more next time."

Draco clenched his teeth. He wanted to yell at Grindelwald, but he knew that his Malfoy name was worthless here, that Grindelwald would hurt him again and that it was useless to speak up against him.

"Good. So, as I said, you will learn wand-less magic now. All you need to learn is a simple spell like the levitation charm, the rest will be just the same then. Concentrate, let your magic flow into your fingertips and _focus_ on the incantation and the wanted effect. You won't be able to levitate anything in the next few hours, but I'm sure you will manage it before sunset.

"Start your training now, you can have a pause when your elf made dinner for us."

Grindelwald picked up _The Trails of the Death-Eaters 1981_ and started reading, not once looking up to Draco.

**/**

The first sign of Hermione's escort arriving was a loud clatter, followed by a loud female voice shouting "Sorry!"

"Hello?" Hermione said timidly. Two weeks had passed since Dumbledore's letter and Hermione had counted the days in anticipation ever since then. Would Dumbledore tell her what he was doing against Voldemort? Maybe his friend that had just arrived would explain everything to her — and then she would discuss it with Harry and Ron!

Quickly rushing down the stairs from her room, Hermione found a young woman with bubble-gum pink hair and striking magenta robes magically fixing glasses and plates laying in pieces around the kitchen table. All the silverware that hovered over the ground and repaired itself dropped with another loud crash when the woman saw Hermione.

"Oh hello! You must be Hermione Dumbledore told me I should pick you up oh you must have a hundred questions but you have to wait till we get to a safe place oh by the way I'm Tonks." the young woman said in one breath.

"Eh, hi." Hermione said, slightly amused. "So you are a friend of Dumbledore?"

"Yes indeed I am," the woman replied while she repaired the broken silverware — again. "So, I will apparate you side-along to the headquarters-" "the _what?_ " "I will explain when we are there — but first I have to meet your parents of course."

All the glasses and tables were once again repaired and neatly positioned on the table, thankfully in time for Hermione's parents who had just entered.

"Hello?" Mr. Granger asked tentatively. "Oh hi! I'm Tonks, I'm here to pick up Hermione to take her to, eh... Ron's family."

"Ehm…" Mrs. Granger shook Tonks hand, her gaze fixed on the pink hair and magenta clothing.

"Don't worry, we will apparate directly to the house — that is basically risk-free. I'm so happy to meet you!" Tonks said, enthusiastically shaking Mrs. Granger's hand.

While Mr. and Mrs. Granger still seemed to debate if Tonks was a good escort for their daughter, Hermione said "You want to come up into my room?" and both of them quickly went upstairs.

"Your room is so tidy! Mine always looks like a troll went amok, but I was never the organized type you know." Hermione was packing her coffers while Tonks went up and down the room, looking at every corner with fascination.

"Can I help you? My mother taught me just the perfect spell to pack a coffer and I always wanted to test it." Tonks grinned and drew her wand.

"Is the spell… safe?" Even through Tonks' company was very enjoyable, Hermione remembered the smashed glasses too well to let her test a spell on Hermione's belongings.

"Don't worry, I got that!" Tonks said happily and flicked her wand. Clothing flew out of Hermione's wardrobe and into the open coffer, stacking itself up in a pile.

"Thanks," Hermione said. "So, are Harry and Ron already at the _secret place_ that you can't yet talk about? And what about the news? I read that the Malfoy's were murdered and that Dumbledore was thrown out of the I.C.W. and the Prophet-" "Sorry Hermione, we will talk about that at the eh — the place. Best discuss such things at a secure environment."

Both cases were filled with Hermione's clothing now and magically closed themselves. With another flourish of Tonks' wand, the cases flew down the stairs — Hermione and Tonks followed.

Hermione hugged her parents goodbye "And write us a letter when you arrive dear!" and followed Tonks out of the door.

"Have you apparated side-along before?" Tonks asked. "No," Hermione replied, "but I read all about it. According to the spell-books you have to focus on the three D's — Destination, Determination and Deliberation."

"You are well very well-read I see. For side-along, you just have to grip my arm and don't let go, a bid like using a portkey."

Hermione gripped Tonks right arm. Both she and Tonks took a case in one hand — then Tonks drew her wand, and then all went black around Hermione.

The next moment, they stood before a long row of Muggle houses. Everything swirled before her eyes and Hermione nearly fell. "Here," Tonks said, giving Hermione a small piece of paper.

Hermione took it, still a little unsteady from the dizziness after her first apparition. The writing of the note was Dumbledore's again.

_12th Grimmauld place is the headquarters of the Order of the Phoenix_

"What is the-" suddenly, a large house squeezed itself between the two houses before her, growing in size and pressing the other houses away to each side.

"It's a Fidelius Charm! The note was from the secret keeper — it looks like Dumbledore's handwriting — does that mean that this is Dumbledore's house?"

"No, but Dumbledore is the secret keeper. It belongs to my cousin, Sirius, who-" "You are Sirius' cousin!?" Hermione asked in amazement.

"Yes, he is here as well," Tonks said, opening the black entrance door of 12th Grimmauld place. "C'mon, Molly has just made dinner."

Hermione entered after Tonks, walking into Sirius' family home.

**/**

Even through he knew that there would be some remains of the heavy werewolf wounds, he had hoped they were less visible. His reflection in the magic mirror turned around at his command, showing him his back.

Four thin crimson lines stretched all the way from the top of his right shoulder to the left side of his hip. They weren't ugly and bold scars with bulky pink tissue — it looked like someone just drew them on his back with a fine, deep red marker.

His front looked very similar. Another two lines went down from the centre of his chest to the left side of his hip, ending just at the top of his pelvis.

_At least I will look menacing when I'm a bid older_ , Draco thought, even through he would've preferred no scars at all.

Draco turned away from the mirror, scratching his back. The shower had helped to wash away all the soreness and the ache in his bones after his first training day at Nurmengard. Grindelwald ended the lesson when Draco had, after six draining hours of exercise, finally managed to levitate a glass wandlessly for thirty seconds.

It had felt amazing to be able to do something that was usually learned only by Aurors — in the end all that was needed was a lot of exercise and a strict teacher.

When Draco had finally been dismissed, he had picked up his backpack and entered the room he had found on his search through the floors of Nurmengard the day before, the one with the leather seat and the beautiful view. He had cleaned and repaired his clothing as good as possible and then took a long, hot shower.

He watched the long mountain chain through the windowpanes while he dressed, once more realizing how absurd his current situation was. _I learn from a Dark Wizard how to take revenge on another Dark Wizard._

Maybe he could escape from here — he could travel far away, earn his living and never again enter Great Britain, but the truth was that Draco Malfoy would never rest until he had avenged his mother. _His mother_ had died so that he could live, she had sacrificed herself for him. He couldn't just walk away, leave his past like-

_A coward — I've_ _been a coward all my life, I never achieved anything at Hogwarts. That's the truth; All I did in my whole life was_ _brag about my family name, about my worthless father and his worthless influence. I never had friends, they were_ _all_ _just minions who followed me because of my money and_ _my name. I'm worthless._

It hurt to admit that, but there was no point in pretending otherwise since his father and his ideals had brought him here at first.

But now he had the chance to prove himself differently, to be someone great, someone powerful. This was his chance to shine, to make the world recognize him — not as a rich prat and coward, but as a powerful man.

Draco picked up the magically extended backpack, emptying it on the floor. _Okay, I have a lot of clothing; I have my dagger, that will come in handy._

He picked up all his clothes and folded them into the wardrobe, _my wardrobe — this is my room now!_

Another long day filled with training awaited him tomorrow — he had to rest and let his body regenerate, but it wasn't even ten o'clock yet, so Draco allowed himself to enjoy the view on the Alps a little longer.


	4. FOUR

" _Hope in reality is the worst of all evils_

_because it prolongs the torments of man._

— **Friedrich Nietzsche**

* * *

Are we supposed to talk with Muggles?

_Muggles are the dirt below our feet; they are born to serve us, the wizards, the gifted. We keep our blood pure and noble, we are the best of the best — never forget that Draco._

That was what his father had said, over and over since he was old enough to understand the words. His father, who had sacrificed him and his mother because his master told him to. Lucius told him they were the best of the best and still he murdered his kin, lied to him, betrayed him — Draco wouldn't be naive to believe in Lucius' words again.

He would define his own principles and morals, his own view of the world. He was no longer a pawn of his father, and he would certainly not be a minion to Grindelwald and his plans. Draco Malfoy was his own master.

And still, the question remained: Should he go, talk with Muggles?

His mother taught him to be strong, to be confident — never to show fear. _Promise me Draco._

Draco Malfoy would always go on. _Logic_ — That was his key, his anchor to sanity. _Realize_ _your situation, and then make a decision._

Right now, he had been in training for eight days, learning the fundamentals of what Grindelwald called _the higher level of spell craft._ Draco Malfoy was able to cast spells non-verbal and — if necessary — wand-less. The recent days were the most exhausting days in Draco's young life — but he had learned more about magic then in all the years at Hogwarts.

 _Magic is art. Wizards draw their artworks on a_ _blank_ _canvas, b_ _ut_ _some brushes are denied to them — deemed too dangerous and destructive._ _You don't learn the complex, wicked branches of spell craft at schools like Hogwarts._ _B_ _ut_ _I will show you all of them._

The training with Grindelwald was draining, heinous at the start. But it became easier with time and what Grindelwald's words had suddenly made sense to Draco. He became better and better and now, after only eight days, Draco was released into the world again for the first time.

 _In two days you_ _will go to Gringotts and reclaim your heritage. Tomorrow, you will get a free day. Go into the Muggle world_ _and regenerate_ _, somewhere far away from Europe. Your face won't be known there, the risk will be bearable._

Grindelwald had taught him two more thinks before he allowed Draco his free day. First, he showed Draco how to apparate — wandlessly. A very difficult task, but in the end Draco had managed to apparate precisely on a small stone-slab, a hundred yards away and barely the size of his feet.

The second skill, in comprehension to the first one ridiculously easy, was a spell to disable the Trace. "The Trace is a simple but powerful Tracking Charm, installed by the I.C.W., and now managed differently by every country." Grindelwald had told him.

Now that Draco left the wards of Nurmengard, he would be recognizable again. The spell to Conceal his use of underage-magic would have to be renewed every two days.

After some thinking, Draco had chosen to spent his free day in New Zealand.

New Zealand was beautiful place that Draco had always wanted to visit — the fact that there was no solid wizarding community and that it was governed, as a former British Colony, by the Ministry made his decision quite easy. The Ministry didn't bother to surveil a far-away country with no wizards there, it wasn't worth the effort.

Now, here he was: Draco Malfoy, a pure-blood wizard, standing before some muggle beach with stolen muggle currency to be spent for his delight. Draco was to return to Nurmengard at 2pm — that meant he could use the this whole day and night to do whatever he wanted.

 _It's a disgrace that we have to hide before_ them _, Draco. You are better than this filth, remember that._

His father's voice again. _I will go down there, just to_ _spite him._

The beach was beautiful — water, shining like a thousand sapphires in the bright sun of the summer, a vast sand strand filled with people — and just the right amount not to be annoyed by them, or to be lonely.

Summer had just begun here in New Zealand, and yet Draco was thankful for the light muggle clothing that prevented him from getting a heat stroke.

Pineapple trees surrounded the café he was currently sitting in. It gave just the right amount of privacy and shade for the guests to be comfortable.

Muggles walked all around him as he sat at the cafe-bar — quite a lot of them girls in various states of dressing.

The muggles in his parent's stories were always ugly and evil, trying to attack and trick the wizards. These girls were just like the ones at Hogwarts — giggling and chattering, but without these concealing school robes.

"Sir, would you like something to drink?"

It took some effort to hide Draco's smugness. The waitress behind the bar, around 25 by her looks, had called him, a fifteen years old, _sir_. _They think I'm of age, good to know I've got the looks._

"An espresso please." Draco said absently, once more watching the surrounding people.

A lot of the children here carried strange masks with tubes on them. _Some kind of fashion or something._

It was quite disappointing — these people were, except for their clothing, quite similar to wizards. In fact, the clothes of the Muggle girls was way better than that of witches.

Stupid of him to still believe in his father's idealism. It had been proved wrong already by Voldemort, why should Lucius be right in this aspect.

"Here is your espresso Sir," the woman behind the bar said.

"Thanks. Can I pay for it now?" Draco asked, dropping a few bills of the muggle currency on the counter.

"Of course, let me just get the dollar bills. Most people pay with pounds here."

_Dollars and pounds, strange names for a currency._

Draco hadn't really looked at the bills when he nicked them with a quick wandless _accio_ from a passing muggle.

The _dollar_ bills had strange symbols etched over them, with the same numbers at ever corner and a picture of a strange-looking man at the centre. _So this is_ _one_ _50-dollar bill and the man in the centre must be some ruler or whatsoever._

"Here Sir, 46 dollar change."

"Eh, thank you." Draco took the bills and put them back in his trousers.

"Vodka martini," a female voice to Draco's right said.

Draco turned around. Beside him sat a slender girl around his age, judging by her looks.

The brunette was dressed casually in a T-Shirt and shorts. She grinned slily at Draco, tucking a bit of her shoulder-long hair behind her ear.

"And what's your name handsome?" the brunette asked sheepishly.

He hadn't really planned to talk to any muggles, but Grindelwald had still demanded for Draco to invent a cover story, in case someone talked to him.

To be honest, Draco had no intention of talking to anyone, he had just wanted to relax for one day after the straining past days. But the muggle girl that grinned at him was attractive, very attractive.

"I'll tell you mine if you tell me yours." Draco said, sipping from his espresso.

"Zoe"

"James"

Zoe raised her drink, "Nice to meet you _James_ , if that's your real name."

 _Great start_ "Why would you think that I lie?"

Zoe grinned. "You first evaded my question, then you hesitated too long when you said _James_ "

Grindelwald was right of course. _I should've spent more time to prepare._

"Clever girl," Draco said coldly. _Maybe a bit too clever._

Zoe looked more and more amused. "A certain level of arrogance, combined with unnecessary expensive clothing — you grew up with money. Judging by your accent and strict dress-style — honestly who wears shoes at a beach — you are rich British family."

It would be wise to apparate away now, some other country, some other continent at best — but Draco felt drawn to this girl who had found out so much in so little time.

"You know a lot about rich lifestyle, you are either from a rich family yourself, or you spent a lot of time with one. My guess would be the first." Zoe smiled.

"So, a rich girl that dresses casual and flirts with strangers in New-Zealand.

"Your parent's want you to contribute to the family business, but you have planned something different? You are in New-Zealand to take a break of everything that happens at home. Your accent is… strange — strongly American, but the way you pronounce some syllables… you are German, partly at least. Who speaks German in your family, mother or father?"

"And I had feared you would turn out boring. My mother was born in Leipzig, I speak German with her, and English with my father. And yes, I don't want to work in business. I study Genetics at Harvard right now. Sending me there was one of the few things my father did right."

Draco had no idea what Harvard was, but the way she said it was enough to guess that it was prestigious. _She said she studied, so Harvard is some kind of University._

"How old are you?"

"Just got eighteen. I wanted to celebrate that by travelling here for a month or so. It's holidays after all."

Zoe looked at him with a strange expression. "You are way too sober for someone who should enjoy himself here."

"I have to return to Britain tomorrow."

"Some important work? Well, today is your day, _enjoy it._ "

Draco looked around. "It's 5pm already, I don't want to waste the rest of the day here."

Zoe watched him carefully for a few seconds, then, "Well, the hotel I'm staying at is just half an hour away from here. I'm all alone there."

At last years Yule-Ball Draco had fooled around with his date, Pansy Parkinson. She had been nothing but a nuisance, in shrill pink robes with a shrill annoying giggle. Draco hadn't had any sexual experience besides her and, for a very short time, Daphne Greengrass.

But sleeping with a Muggle girl would be like spitting on his father's grave. _He is the reason you are here, alone and without family._ _I_ _don't care_ _what he w_ _ould think_ _._

What damage could it do? He would be gone tomorrow and there was no one to stop him. Yes, she was a muggle — but she was pretty. Very pretty and very smart.

"May I offer you some company?" Draco asked.

Zoe stood up, chuckling. "You may, but only if you cheer up a little."

Draco grinned. "I hope I will."

**/**

"But Professor, Harry is alone with the Muggles! Why can't we write him what's happening here?"

"Owl's can be intercepted Miss Granger. Harry will come to Grimmauld Place in a few weeks time but until then, you and Mr. Weasley must promise me not to write any information in your letters."

Hermione looked to Ron for help, but he too seemed to have no argument. "We promise, Professor Dumbledore. And…"

Dumbledore raised an eyebrow, "And you want to know all about what the Order of the Phoenix is doing?"

"My mum keeps us away at every meeting! It's not fair, we want to help," Ron complained.

Dumbledore sighted. "The Order is doing things way to dangerous for underage wizards, Mr. Weasley. I'm sorry, but it's for your own protection."

Disappointed, Hermione and Ron went up to their rooms.

"Harry will hate us." Ron said. "He won't _hate_ us Ronald! He will be… a bit angry."

"A bit angry? _A bit?_ Harry saw You-Know-Who returning and now he is being kept in the dark for weeks. He will be furious!"

Hermione stopped when they reached Ron's room. "We will explain it to him, that it's too risky to say anything in letters, he will understand. Hopefully."

"Yeah, I hope so," Ron sighted. "Good night."

"Night." Hermione went down the floor, to her own room.

Great, so they would be kept in the dark _and_ exclude Harry from anything that was happening here.

 _Dumbledore said a_ few _weeks, what did that mean?_

In the worst case, Harry would come back a day before they left for the Hogwarts-Express. _He will be so angry with us!_

But Dumbledore was right; If the letters would be intercepted, they would give Voldemort information. _Not that we are getting any useful ones to leak._

Yes, they were underage and in school, but they could do much more than to help cleaning this old mansion!

Ginny sat on the bed in their room, looking up when Hermione entered. "You look upset, something happened?"

"Dumbledore was just here, we had to promise not to write Harry anything in the letters, because they could be intercepted. And he didn't even tell us when Harry was coming, he just said _in a few weeks._ "

"I don't understand why Harry can't come to us directly, but Dumbledore will probably have his reasons." Ginny said with a sigh.

"We will tell him everything we know when he arrives."

"There might be a solution for that," Ginny said with a grin. "Fred and George developed something knew that might come in useful: Extendable-Ears."

 _Please not another invention of them…_ "And what are these _Extendable-Ears?_ They sound dangerous, whatever they are!"

"You sound exactly like mum right now," Ginny giggled. "They are simple long strings through which you can hear. We sit on the stairs at our floor and throw down the Ears. Then we will hear everything they are talking about."

"That's ingenious!" Hermione said.

The doors to their room burst open. "Do my ears deceive me?" Fred and George asked.

"Praise by none other than Hermione Granger, am I dreaming George?"

"No you are not," Hermione said. "But I want to see your invention for myself."

"That's why we are here," George began. "We were about to tell you, but we heard you talking about us, we couldn't stop ourselves." Fred finished.

"Well," Ginny said impatiently.

"Well — we just heard Snape entering the kitchen. You want to find out what he's been up to?"

Fred and George led them down the floor towards the staircase that led down to the kitchen.

"They just came apparating into my room, _on my bed._ " Ron greeted them from the floor, crouched down in front of the banister.

"Quiet little brother, can't risk mum finding out," George whispered.

He and Fred pulled out a ball of pink-red strings, holding onto one end and levitating the other one down the stairs, right before the kitchen door.

"-nothing knew yet," Snape's voice came out of their end of the string. "Draco remains missing, no trace of him. The Dark Lord believes he tried to apparate and splintered himself. There is, however, no way of tracing such a spell. The Malfoy Manor has powerful wards, obscuring the Trace on Draco."

"If he is alive, he will be safe, for the time being," Dumbledore's voice. "And what about Voldemort's other activities?"

"The envoys for the giants have sent a message to the Dark Lord. So far, they haven't made any progress, but they assured the Dark Lord that the giants were having an open ear for his cause."

"Any word from Hagrid?" "That's Kingsley, the Auror from the Ministry!" Ron whispered.

"He and Madame Maxime arrived at the Giant's settlement, but haven't yet made contact. They will start first approaches in the coming days."

The doorbell rang. "I'm coming!" sounded Mrs. Weasley's door from the kitchen.

"Shit," Fred said, quickly pulling up the strings. "Mum's coming! Get back to your rooms."

Ginny, Ron and Hermione didn't need to be told twice. They sprinted back to their rooms, when suddenly, Mrs. Weasley's voice screamed "Fred and George! What are you doing up there?!"

Ginny and Hermione quickly closed the doors behind them.

"Why did they need to collect the Ears? Now mum's going to find out." Ginny said, throwing herself onto her bed.

"I don't think they produced a lot. These were probably just prototypes, they didn't want to lose them."

"Well," Ginny sighted. "I hope they'll make more.

"And I hope that Hagrid will convince these Giants. They would make for a pretty strong ally."

"They would be a horrible enemy," Hermione said. "When they support You-Know-Who, it will be very tough to fight them."

"Yeah. And this stuff about Malfoy...

"What do you think Snape meant with _obscuring the Trace_?"

Hermione was quiet, thinking for a moment, then, "Well, the Trace is used to track underage magic. If Malfoy apparated, they could've found him that way. But if Malfoy's home has some sort of protection against tracking spells, no one can no where he has gone."

"Do you think he is alive?" Ginny asked.

"I…" _there is no chance. His body is probably lying in some alley now_ "I hope he is. He didn't deserve what happened to him."

"I think he is. They didn't find Mrs. Malfoy's wand. He could've picked it up and escaped."

"But even if he has: the Ministry, the Order and You-Know-Who are all searching for him. He will have a hard time staying hidden. I only hope the Order will find him first."

"Yeah, think about it:" Ginny sat up from her bed. "Why would You-Know-Who want to kill him so desperately? Malfoy knows something that he shouldn't know."

"He will live in exile know, having to hide from any wizard who might recognize him. What a horrible life," Hermione shuddered.

**/**

"-and that was just the beginning of it."

"Well," Draco kissed his way up between her shoulder-blades, whispering directly into her ear.

"America sounds like a country worth… _exploring._ I wish Britain was that interesting."

"Tell me how Britain is. Are your parents living there too?" Zoe rolled over in her bed, giving Draco an _excellent_ view of her… features. _Muggles_ _really_ _aren't that bad — at least the girls._

"Britain is boring and traditional. Nothing new ever happens there.

"Ask about them, I know you want to," Draco added.

Zoe quickly raised her eyes from Draco's chest, where she had just studied the longest of the several scars that were plastered all over his chest and back.

"You don't have to tell me, it's not my business. But you have to talk about whatever happened to you with someone, you are quite depressive."

_She is right, the Muggle is right._

"My father made business with a man who is better not betrayed and gambled too high. The man sent an assassin — I was the only one to escape. All because of my stupid father. He deserved what happened to him, but my mother didn't, end of story." Draco said quietly.

Zoe was silent for a long time. "Do you have any other relatives?"

 _Yeah, but I never met them._ "I'm alone now. I will… continue my parent's business tomorrow."

Draco looked at the Muggle-clock on the nightstand. _These Muggle devices are strange, but they are useful sometimes._

"I will have to leave in one hour," Draco sighted.

Zoe kissed a scar on Draco's shoulder, "Thank you for telling me.

"You know… you should make the best of the time you've left here."

Draco grinned, "You bet I will."

**/**

Saying goodbye to Zoe was harder than Draco had imagined. When he had agreed to accompany Zoe to her hotel, Draco had thought that it would be nothing but a quick shag, or something like that. He had thought it would be a day that he would remember as the one time when Draco Malfoy had fucked around with a Muggle.

"Here," Zoe said, giving him a small piece of paper.

"What is that?" Draco asked confused. "My cellphone number, if you want to call me someday." Zoe said with a small smile.

Draco looked at the number for a while, then put it into his pockets. "Thank you, Zoe."

Zoe looked around. They were standing at the small road that led down to the beach with the cafe-bar. The sun had just risen, giving them a beautiful look at the sea.

"Goodbye, _James._ It was a nice day, and night." Zoe said, turning around, facing him.

Draco grinned, "Yes, it was. Goodbye, Zoe."

Zoe hugged him briefly, then turned around and marched back, up to her hotel-room.

Draco watched her for a few seconds, then went into the nearest bush, taking out his mother's wand.

Grindelwald had told him he would reactivate the wards and enchantments around Nurmengard Castle while Draco was gone. That meant that Draco had to apparate outside them, so he could then walk into Nurmengard by foot, letting the blood-wards recognize him.

He concentrated, focusing on the snowy meadow where he had apparated the night his mother was killed.

He walked forward, feeling the compression, the humming in his ears.

A cold, snowy breeze went through him as Draco landed in Austria. _I'm still in shorts, shit!_

Draco quickly cast a warming charm (wandlessly of course), then started his march through the thick snow, up the hill on which the Castle-Tower was built.

Before him was a small spot where the ground was painted red, thick crimson blood mixed with snow. His blood, spilled on his first night here.

He started walking again, leaving the spot untouched as it was.

When he opened the doors that led into the main room, _main hall would d_ _escribe_ _it better…_ , Grindelwald waited for him already.

He sat at the table, dressed in elegant black and white robes, going over the dozens of parchments that laid all over the table-top.

"The clothes you'll wear are lying in your room. They will make sure that your face is obscured, without giving you too much attention. I had your house-elf buying them."

"Okay, fine. What are all these notes you made about?" Draco said, inspecting the table before him.

"I went through all the trial-transcripts of accused Death-Eaters and supporters and made a list of possible Death-Eaters that could've joined Riddle again."

"And how many Death-Eaters are following Voldemort now," Draco asked angrily.

"Under a dozen," Grindelwald said, wandlessly casting a spell that made the notes order themselves neatly into a stack. "And don't call him _Voldemort._ " he added.

"Why? I no longer fear to speak his name!" Draco retorted.

"I hope so. But _Lord Voldemort_ is not his name. It's an alias, a title he gives himself to hide his Muggle-name. _Lord Voldemort_ the Dark Wizard sounds way better than _Tom Riddle Jr._ , son of Tom Riddle Sr. the Muggle-boy."

It was so absurd, it almost made Draco laugh. "Vol- _Tom Riddle_ is Muggle-born?"

"He is a Half-Blood. His mother, Merope Gaunt, is born to an ancient, disgraced Pure-Blood line. But that is no reason to call him by a name that Riddle gave himself. Speaking his alias makes him sound more dangerous than he is.

"Now get dressed, it's time I tell you the plan."

 _Could've been worse,_ Draco thought as he walked down the floor.

The clothes that Grindelwald had ordered for him made him look like a poor traveller, but not yet like a beggar. Simple black robes, covered by an overlarge grey cloak with a deep hood that hid his face completely. An outfit that granted him anonymity.

"And now the plan," Grindelwald began after Draco had entered. "You will apparate into Diagon-Alley at four o'clock — most wizards are still working then. Walk directly, but calmly into Gringotts. Go to the reception and ask the goblin there for anonymous entry into your vault.

"It is Gringotts' policy to grant absolute anonymity to any client who so desires, they won't deny you. You will be let into a separate room where you will be asked to identify yourself. Lower your hood and say that you want all your estate paid out. British banks have special platinum coins for larger sums, usually used for companies. One platinum coin is worth ten thousand galleons, ask for payout in these coins. Fill all the coins into your backpack with the Extension-Charm and leave.

"The goblins are not allowed to speak about their customers, but still remind them not to speak about Draco Malfoy to anyone, especially not the ministry," Grindelwald finished.

"What if the ministry forces them to?" Draco asked.

"They are not allowed to. The banks are untouchable, even for the ministry. If they try it, they will risk another goblin uprising."

"What if someone tries to stop me?" "Then leave, apparate, defend yourself like I taught you. Just keep sure they can't identify you!" Grindelwald said impatiently.

"You have half an hour left. Eat, drink and calm down. Make sure you are ready. This money could open many doors for us."

**/**

Half an hour later Draco stood, once more, on the snow meadow, the red spot with his dried blood illuminated before him in the sunlight. He would soon enter Britain again, enter the wizarding community.

_I'm making progress mother, I'm avenging you! I am going on!_

He raised his mother's wand, and apparated.

The walls of Flourish and Blotts emerged before him. Draco stood, just as he had planned, in an alleyway behind the bookshop. Gringotts' entry was just a few meters away from here, and this sideway was abandoned, having once led to some tailor shop that didn't stand a chance against Madam Malkin's and went bankrupt.

Quickly checking that the hood was still in place, Draco slowly walked down the abandoned alleyway into the main road of Diagon-Alley.

Diagon-Alley was indeed quite deserted. Almost no wizard and only a few students went down the alley, not once looking to Draco, their attention focused on the various shops.

"C'mon Theo, Florean's Ice Cream is just down the alley!" a shrill, attention seeking voice spoke, just a few meters behind Draco.

_Pansy and Theodore._

But Draco couldn't speak to his old classmates, and they wouldn't speak to him, so Draco went on, slowly walking towards Gringotts'. _Don't look over to them,_ _d_ _on't_ _look back_ _._

A few goblin heads turned up from their desks and letters when Draco entered. _A cloaked figure in a bank is never good for them._

Without giving them any attention, Draco walked to the nearest counter and said, as calmly as he could, "I want to access my vault, _anonymously._ "

The goblin before him looked up and, after debating for a few seconds, said, "Of course, _Sir._ Follow me please."

Draco went after the goblin, his heart beating so fast he was sure the goblin would hear it.

"In here please," the goblin said, holding open a door that let into a small, comfortable room.

Draco went in and, after the goblin had closed the door behind them, lowered his hood.

The goblin gave no sign of surprise besides a small hiss. "Mr. Malfoy, what can the bank of Gringotts do for you?"

Slowly, Draco walked to the leather chair in the corner of the audience room and sat down gracefully. _C_ _alm down_ _, you are Draco Malfoy, you did nothing wrong._

"I want," Draco began calmly, "all my estate and holdings here at Gringotts. Everything is to be paid out in platinum coins, anonymously of course."

Silence filled the room uncomfortably for a few seconds. "The whole estate in your access? That will be a large sum, unwise to carry-"

"Is it not my right as a Gringotts client," Draco hissed, "to have access to my holdings?"

"Yes, but such a sum-" "let that be my concern," Draco interrupted the goblin again.

"Get me all the money, and a summary of the drawn amount and their respective vaults."

The goblin stood frozen before him for a second, then, "As you wish, Sir. I would need your family ring, Sir, as an identification."

Draco took his family ring from his finger, the one possession that had remained from his time before everything happened, the silver ring with the black _'M'_ formed family-crest.

The goblin took it and looked at it for a few seconds, then returned it to Draco and left the room.

 _Everything i_ _s going as planned, for now at least._ _Stop being nervous!_

It felt like hours had passed when the goblin finally returned, holding a large silver briefcase over his head with both hands.

Draco released a breath he wasn't aware he was holding. "Thank you, that will be sufficient." He opened the silver buckles, releasing the view onto thousands over thousands of platinum coins, the case being far deeper than it should've been. _That_ _one_ _has an Extension-Charm as well._

"Here is a list of the vaults that have just been emptied, with the previous owners."

"Good," Draco said, taking the parchment, "That will be all then."

Draco stood up from his seat, about to throw over his grey cloak again. "There is something more, Sir," the goblin said.

"Yes?" Draco asked. _That can't be good._

"Your mother, the late Mrs. Malfoy, had an additional private vault, separate from the family's holdings. It is only accessible with your or your mother's family ring."

Draco pulled the hood down, deep over his face. "Fine, lead the way."

**/**

He had only accompanied his parent's into the vaults once, and now Draco remembered why he had _hated_ it.

The ancient carriage that led them down the rails into the depths of Gringotts' caverns was rusty and squealed at every curve. The damp, moist air pressed against his face the whole time, making the ride even more uncomfortable. Fear and adrenaline made him hold his hood over his face the whole time, even through he knew that he and the goblin were alone in the iron carriage.

"Vault 404," the goblin announced when the carriage stopped. _Finally._

He released his hold on the hood, stepping out of the carriage.

The vault-door was made of clean, unyielding metal, the exception being a small indent, the perfect size for-

Draco stepped forward, pressing his family-ring into the indent.

A humming went through his arm when the goblin-steel doors opened. Draco stepped inside the tiny chamber.

The vault was empty, except for a single piece of parchment that was lying on the floor.

That couldn't mean something good. Why would his mother need a vault that was inaccessible to Lucius? This parchment must contain a secret she tried to hide from his father.

But Draco's family-ring opened the vault as well, so he was allowed to see it, right?

Slowly, Draco bent down and picked up the parchment.

The letters on the parchment looked a bleached grey, the words were about to fade with time. _That's a magical copy of a letter, the charm_ _must be_ _wearing off,_ Draco realized.

As he read through the lines, his hands began to shake.

This letter changed everything for him. This secret, this _truth_ was everything, everything that mattered now.

"Thank you, I want to leave now," Draco said with a shaking voice. He carefully folded the magical copy of the letter and left the tiny vault.

Draco didn't notice the moist wind any more as the carriage guided them away, away from all the secrets and truths, up into the world. A loud, clearing noise had filled his ears as Draco stood there in his carriage, clutching the briefcase in one hand, and holding the hood down with the other. The noise allowed him to think, think about everything that could've been, but wasn't. _All because of Lucius Malfoy…_

When they arrived back above ground, Draco quickly pulled out the backpack, which he had magically shrunk down to fit into his pockets, re-enlarged it to stow away the suitcase, then re-shrunk it to put it back in his pocket, together with _the letter._

Draco left Gringotts, sprinting down the alley, not caring that people were looking at him, and only stopped when he had reached the deserted sideway again. He sunk down in a shadowed corner at the very end of the alley, finally releasing his breath.

_I have to calm down, focus on the apparition. But the letter, the letter!_

"I knew I saw some blond hair," a voice growled from the alleyway's entrance.

 _Shit!_ Draco hadn't realized that his hood had fallen down when he had sat down, but it was too late now.

A bulky man was standing a few meters away from him, blocking the entrance to the dead-end street.

"The Dark Lord will honour me when I bring him you. Oh, he so wants to punish you so badly, it will be a wonderful spectacle."

Draco recognized the man now, arrogantly standing there before him. _Yaxley, Corban Yaxley —_ _A_ _friend of my father!_

Hatred soared through him as Yaxley advanced on him, casually, arrogantly drawing his wand, underestimating Draco, just like Greyback did.

Yaxley was a friend of Lucius Malfoy, one of Voldemort's Death-Eaters, and Draco had sworn revenge on them. _They will pay, and he will be the first._

Before Yaxley had fully drawn his wand, Draco had Narcissa's wand in his hand.

Hatred soared in him, hatred and anger. It went through his veins, up into his arms, and into his wand.

" _Avada Kedavra!_ "

A humming, a green light, then Yaxley fell down before Draco's feet, dead, like a puppet whose strings had been cut.

When Draco had killed Greyback, just a few days and yet an eternity ago, it was a reflex — a need to protect his mother, to prevent her from getting raped by the werewolf. He hadn't thought, he had just pushed the dagger through the werewolf's throat.

This time it was different. Draco had killed Yaxley because he wanted to, because there was _so much hatred_ in him, so much anger over his father and the letter and it's secret.

_I don't regret it. Not one bit — he deserved it, all he Death-Eaters deserve it!_

Draco heard shouts coming from the main alley. He quickly pulled down his hood and concentrated, picturing the snowy meadow with the crimson spot that tarnished it.

Two figures emerged from Diagon-Alley, seeing him- Draco moved forward, feeling the now familiar compression and the humming.

**/**

"Did everything went smoothly?"

Draco pulled down his hood as he entered the entrance hall, releasing a shaky breath. He pulled out the tiny backpack from his pocket and let it fall onto the table, a dull _clang_ way too loud for such a tiny object chiming through the room.

He walked to the nearest seat and let himself sink into it.

Grindelwald held up a wand, " _Engorgio._ "

"Where did you find that wand?" Draco asked absently as Grindelwald opened the suitcase.

"It's an old one of mine. I kept it hidden in the castle, took me a while to find it again," Grindelwald said while looking at the shining platinum coins.

"How much is that?" he then asked.

"No idea," Draco murmured, "the goblin gave me an outline for the vaults, it's somewhere in there."

"You are unfocused, _w_ _hat happened?_ " Grindelwald asked sharply. "Did any problems occur?"

"No," Draco began, "I mean yes it's… well, I killed a Death-Eater. After I got the money he tried to attack me, bring me to Riddle, but I killed him with the Killing Curse." Draco said dully.

He wanted Grindelwald to stop asking questions, he wanted to reread the letter, wanted to think about it, about what _it_ meant. _My life could've been so different!_

"Did somebody see you?"

"Only the Death-Eater, Yaxley, but I was hidden under the hood again when people arrived, I apparated before they realized anything.

" _Nobody saw me._ " Draco added when Grindelwald still looked at him.

"We will have to wait for the next Daily Prophet to be sure, but if your face was hidden in time, no damage was done. One less Death-Eater to care about."

"Are we finished then? I want to go up to my room." Draco said with a tired voice.

"What else has happened? Something affects you, something serious. I can't have that, you have to stay focused."

Draco didn't want to talk about it, not until he had reread it for himself, made up his mind, _slept._

"I found a letter from my father, but _please,_ let me tell you tomorrow. I- I need to think about it for myself first."

Grindelwald snorted. "If you want to run away, you shouldn't have come back in first place."

"I don't want to leave! It's… something personal, very personal."

"Fine, but leave the outline of the vaults. I want to know how much we have, what possibilities we have."

Draco dropped the parchment, the other, unimportant parchment and went up to his room.

He let himself fall on his king-sized bed, looking through the windows onto the Alps, the beautiful, frosty mountains that surrounded him, isolated him.

Carefully, Draco took out the letter from his mother's vault, laid it on the bed before him, and slowly read it again:

 _First_ _, Miss G_ _rauthal_ _, let me tell you that I'm surprised by your insolence to write to me, m_ _ere weeks after my wedding to Narcissa Black._

_Let me enlighten you that I will not, under any circumstances, take responsibility for our brief relationship and t_ _he subsequent pregnancy_ _._

_T_ _he girl_ _is deprived of_ _any rights_ _to_ _a possible i_ _nheritance_ _, and she will be brought up as your daughter, and_ _a_ _s_ _your daughter alone._

 _I_ _will not tolerate any further correspondence from you, and I forbid you from informing my wife abo_ _ut_ _t_ _he brief_ _relationship we had._

Sincerely, Lucius Malfoy

_I have a sister._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Critics and reviews of any kind are very welcome


	5. FIVE

" _The only difference between the saint and the sinner is that every saint has a past,_

_and every sinner has a future_

— **Oscar Wilde**

* * *

Cornelius Fudge had seen many bad days while being in his office.

Just over two years ago, the Chamber of Secrets was opened again, the headmaster was fired and the Ground-keeper was imprisoned. Then, Black had escaped. He entered Hogwarts the same year, and escaped imprisonment in the next one.

Then, after many, many debates with the ministries of France and Sweden, the Triwizard tournament was revived — only to end in a catastrophe. At the end of it, a student died and Dumbledore _used that_ to try to seize power.

And now, while Dumbledore was conspiring against him, a man was murdered in the most frequented alley in all of England, _at bright daylight._

Corban Yaxley wasn't only a member of the Sacred Twenty-Eight, he was also a major donator to the ministry.

 _First the Malfoys and now him. I'_ _ll_ _have to cut several budgets…_

A knock on his office door interrupted the minister's thoughts.

"Come in." Fudge said curtly. _Better get this done — fast and quietly._

One after another, Amelia Bones, head of MLE and Rufus Scrimgeour, head of Auror office entered.

"Well, eh-" the minister began when all had seated, "you are called here because of the murder of Corban Yaxley. Now, what is the eh- the current situation?" He asked, unable to hide his nervousness.

Scrimgeour and Bones looked at each other, then Scrimgeour began, "The Auror office has gathered testimonies from the three witnesses that saw the person who killed Yaxley. All say the same: They heard the person shout the Killing Curse and when they arrived, the person was just apparating.

"All of them agree that the person was male, and that he was cloaked — with a deep hood that hid his face."

"The MLE is printing posters with the help of the witnesses' provided memories, but with the cloak, there is little chance of finding him." Bones said.

"It's eleven in the evening with the Daily Prophet storming this very building! I can't tell them we got nothing!" the minister yelled.

"I had hoped," he continued, a little quieter this time, "that we might tell them we made _some_ progress. Is there any progress we might be able to show the press?" He asked, a little desperate. _My carrier is in real danger._

"If I might make a suggestion," Amelia Bones said, "We can reassign Kingsley once more. His taskforce for breaking the Malfoy manor's wards hasn't made any progress yet, and he has five Aurors and eleven Curse-Breakers under his command.

"The Aurors can work on this case and patrol through Diagon-Alley, this might give the people some security."

_I need the money from the manor desperately!_

But after all, the pressure of this murder was higher than that of the missing income for the ministry.

_And when the Malfoy case is closed…_

"We will do that. The case for the Malfoy's murder is closed then, the manor will remain inaccessible for now. This means we can release the bodies and a burial can take place. This should turn the attention away…"

Scrimgeour coughed loudly. "And the family members can say goodbye, of course," Fudge added quickly. "That will be all, then."

"I will make sure the posters are circulated." Amelia Bones said, and left.

"And I will inform Kingsley." Scrimgeour said. "He won't be happy. That's the second reassignment in two weeks."

But Kingsley Shacklebolt wasn't unhappy at all, because working on this case meant that he had access to the witnesses' memories that had been collected. And Kingsley Shacklebolt, loyal member of the Order, reported everything that he saw about the mysterious attacker directly to Albus Dumbledore.

**/**

Normally, the moment Draco entered the entrance-hall in Nurmengard, Grindelwald would begin to talk about the days' business. The spells to learn, the books to read and the news to talk about.

Draco sat at his usual chair, opposite to Grindelwald, staring at the richly filled plates on the table. The house-elves had really outdone themselves.

On his first day here, Wimpy, his personal house-elf, had made a thin but sufficient dinner for them, having bought ingredients with the few coins Draco had in his pockets.

After Lucius had died, Draco was given the ownership of all the house-elves at the Manor (a whole dozen of them), granting him and Grindelwald meals fit for a Hogwarts feast – every single day.

Now, with all the money of the Malfoy family at his disposal, the food-plates that packed the table were fit for a whole Hogwarts house. _We are living like kings here, men sitting_ _in High Chairs at High Castles_

Grindelwald was sitting before him, reading _der fliegende Bote_ in total silence.

 _He wants me to begin,_ Draco concluded.

"You were right, yesterday." Draco began carefully. "Something unsettled me — I found a letter in a vault of my mother, a letter written by Lucius."

Draco took the letter from his pockets and laid it on the table before Grindelwald.

Slowly, Grindelwald laid down the german newspaper and took the letter.

"This was created with a Doubling Charm, a very old one, judging by the fading words."

It wasn't really a question, so Draco thought it better to be silent while Grindelwald read.

Silence filled the room for quite a long time before Grindelwald slowly looked up from the magically conjured paper.

"I know that you want to find your sister, but I can only advice you against it. You aren't ready to go into the wizarding world openly, and you won't gain anything from it." Grindelwald calmly stated.

"I would gain a sister. That is worth the risk." Draco replied drily.

"Your sister has her own life, somewhere out there. The best you can do for her is to leave her alone. It seems that Riddle doesn't know about her yet, and it would be in her best interest to keep it like that."

Draco had had all these doubts, laying awake all night and worrying, but if there was the slightest possibility… _family, something w_ _orth_ _fighting for._

"The possibility is indeed very slight," Grindelwald commented.

"Could you stay out of my head?" "I am teaching you Occlumency for days already, _u_ _se it._

"Face the facts: You are not ready to go out for a search, both mentally and magically."

"I will still go, I have to! I can't go on, not knowing if there was any hope."

Of course Grindelwald wouldn't understand. This meant _everything_ to him — he had to find her, no matter the risk.

Grindelwald was silent once more, looking at the letter before him.

"You will continue training and planning for another ten days. When I deem you ready then, you can search for her, with my help."

"You will help to search for her?" Draco asked in disbelief.

"I won't go out there, if it's that what you mean," Grindelwald said in amusement. "I can give you a starting point, so you can begin the quest."

"What starting point?"

"Inspect the letter."

Draco took the letter, looking at it more closely. The parchment was clean, a bit whiter than a normal one would be, but besides the fading ink and a few smudges on the back, it was just a normal piece of paper.

"I don't get it," Draco confessed.

"There was another text on the backside, most likely from your sister's mother, Miss Grauthal. Your father wrote the reply on the other side. Your mother cast the Doubling Charm in a hurry, therefore copying only one side — the one that mattered to her.

"Now, your second chance: What else can give you a clue to the letter's origin?"

What did the letter tell him? _There is nothing off on it besides…_

Draco took an empty parchment from the stack on one of the other tables and laid it down besides the letter.

The letter was indeed whiter than the normal parchment, and more: the letter was thinner as well.

"It's a different paper," Draco stated.

"Good," Grindelwald said. "I didn't expect you to recognize the paper type, you are a Pure-Blood after all."

 _Why should a Half-Blood know what paper that is? Or some Mugglebo-_ "That's a piece of _Muggle paper?_ "

"Now we are making progress," Grindelwald said. "There is only one country where Muggle paper is used as standard instead of parchment, and that's the USA."

"And it can't be some Muggle-Born because my father would've found it below himself to sleep with one," Draco finished. "So only the letter has to be from the USA!"

"Now you know where to search for your _Miss Grauthal._ Eat now, we start training on wandless Shield-Charms in one hour."

**/**

Harry Potter was fuming.

He was back at Privet Drive for over two weeks now, and he had received _nothing._

Ron and Hermione had sent him letters — a lot of them. And all of them contained the same message: _We are so sorry, but we can't tell you_ anything at all _!_

The Daily Prophet that Harry received did nothing to calm his anger. Dumbledore was thrown out of the I.C.W., the Malfoy's were murdered and know some other Pure-Blood was killed in Diagon-Alley by a cloaked man — and Harry understood _nothing_ of it.

Why would Voldemort kill his own loyal Death-Eater? Had Lucius Malfoy betrayed his master, and Voldemort had then killed the Malfoy family as punishment? _But why would Lucius betray Voldemort?_

And this cloaked man that killed Yaxley…

The Daily Prophet had written about it in detail: All three witnesses had given interviews to the Prophet — and all of them described the killer as a _cloaked man._

Maybe Yaxley had been ordered by Voldemort to kill someone, and this cloaked man had intervened. _Maybe someone has taken up fight against Voldemort!_

Could it be one of Dumbledore's allies? _But Dumbledore would never kill someone like that, in the middle of the wizarding world._

Nothing, _nothing_ of it made sense.

Fuming, Harry clenched the Daily Prophet into a paper ball, throwing it across his room.

Hedwig gave an angry screech as the paper ball banged against her cage, waking her.

"Sorry Hedwig," Harry mumbled, picking up the newspaper-ball.

**/**

Several jagged shards broke from a nearby stone boulder as Grindelwald flicked his wand. The shards flew with high speed at Draco, slamming against the Shield-Charm that Draco barely managed to maintain. _Wandless magic is the most exhausting thing I've ever-_

It sounded like a cracking egg when Draco's Shield-Charm broke. A long, thing shard shot at Draco, the stony arrow abruptly halting — mere inches away from his throat.

"You have to focus on the fight, boy. Wandless magic needs attention and control to be shaped into a spell."

Draco knew that, he knew it very well, but there was so much on his mind… why couldn't he focus?

"Can you teach me this stone-arrow spell? It could come in very handy one day." Another spell, something less draining to learn. Something _new._

"There is no stone-arrow spell. Most wizards think that the best dueller is the one who knows the most spells, the fanciest curse — _that's a lie._

"The spell I used was nothing more than a simple Levitation Charm. You can use the simplest spells for vast destruction. An accomplished dueller uses the environment to fight his opponent. Everything can be used as a weapon, you just need to be creative."

Grindelwald looked into his eyes, the one white-blue eye glowing brightly…

"You are getting better at Occlumency. But I can still feel that something troubles you. You will find your sister soon enough, Draco. Focus on your current task."

How should he explain what really troubled him? It felt silly, and yet it caused him fear in a way that he had never felt.

"It's- It was too easy. Killing Yaxley. It was… I felt no regret, nothing!"

Grindelwald looked at him for a moment, but Draco felt no intrusion, no pricking in his mind.

"You are afraid of yourself. You think you are getting numb, uncaring. It frightens you how easily it was to kill someone.

"That's nothing unusual, on the contrary; It's easy for a powerful person to take a life, just as it is easy for the weak to spare lives. Having power changes things — you will find it difficult to forgive, to have mercy, because no one can judge you for your decision."

"I never thought about sparing him. He recognized me, I did what was best for me. I've never thought that it might be wrong to kill."

"Because killing was easier. We act outside the law, no one can punish us for our actions. Don't think about it now, think about it the next time when you have to decide."

The vast meadows that surrounded the tower of Nurmengard were beautiful, enclosed by several snowy mountains. Draco was safe here. The ministry, Dumbledore, Voldemort — they would never find them, could never penetrate the wards that surrounded them.

Draco was free; free of any laws, any restrictions — of any obligations. Draco had defied his father and his traditions — he had even slept with _a Muggle._ He was starting his revenge on Voldemort and soon, very soon, he would have a family too. _Something worth fighting for._

"Okay, we can continue."

Draco's Shield-Charm held this time.

**/**

"What does that mean Albus?" Molly Weasley asked.

The kitchen of the Black manor was once more filled with members of the Order of the Phoenix. On the kitchen table laid the newest edition of the Daily Prophet, the headline _Member of the Sacred Twenty-Eight murdered at daylight_ printed in large, black letters.

Kingsley, who had been commissioned by the minister with the task of interviewing the three witnesses, had just finished his report about the murder.

Albus Dumbledore, sitting at the head of the table, opposite to Sirius, looked at his hands for a second before answering, "I'm afraid I can only guess Molly.

"It might be possible that someone has taken up on fighting against the Death-Eaters, someone outside the Order. If that is the case, then Corban Yaxley might have been his first victim.

"Severus, what do you think?" Dumbledore asked, looking up at him.

"The Dark Lord," Snape began, "is furious. It is safe to assume that the murder has not been ordered by him."

"We should invite this man to join us, should we ever meet him," growled Alastor Moody.

"The Order does not murder someone in Diagon-Alley, Alastor." Lupin objected.

"He could still make a good ally," said Moody.

"No one knows who he is, let alone how to contact him. We must be careful now — we don't know if he holds a grudge against us as well.

"Nymphadora-" " _Tonks_ " "Tonks, can I talk to you in private?"

The members of the Order all stood up and left the room. "As you might've heard-"

A loud yell emitted from the floor. Dumbledore and Tonks dashed to the door.

" _You two! I told you to put away these things!_ " Molly screamed.

"We just wanted to hear what's going on!" Fred and George retorted in unison. Dumbledore and Tonks arrived just in time to see Molly pulling two long, flesh-coloured strings from the twins.

"Look at this Albus. They used _this_ to listen to our conversations! Spending their time to invent these useless, dangerous things!"

Dumbledore took the offered Extendable-Ears and inspected them. "Brilliant inventions indeed…" he muttered.

The twins grinned from ear to ear. Molly cleared her throat loudly. "But I would ask you not to spy on us. When you are old enough, you can join the Order — but for know you should use your time to make other such brilliant inventions-" " _or none at all!_ " Molly interjected.

Dumbledore winked at the twins and went back into the kitchen with Tonks.

"They got quite a talent for these things," Tonks muttered as they sat down.

"Indeed, brilliant boys. Through I fear Molly is not seeing it that way."

Dumbledore sighted, "The reason I wanted to talk to you is less pleasant, I fear. As you might've read in the Prophet, the Minister has ended the investigation into the murder of your cousin and his parents. Lucius and Narcissa's bodies have been released to be buried. I wanted to ask you about the funeral. Has your mother planned something for them?"

"Yes," Tonks sighted. "They will bury them before the manor, outside the wards. No one can get inside yet, the wards are too strong."

"I want to ask you and your mother for permission to be present at the funeral. All three of them were students of mine, after all."

"My mother will allow it for sure. She is- Narcissa's death hit her quite hard. They haven't spoken to each other since she married Ted."

"I understand. And what about you?" Dumbledore asked gently.

Tonks looked at her hands and sighted. "Well, I never met her, and I never met Draco either. They are strangers to me."

**/**

"The house-elves have really outdone themselves," Draco said.

He and Grindelwald were once more sitting at the great table, looking over food-filled plates. Since Draco had recovered his inheritance from Gringotts, the house-elves of the Malfoy family cooked and baked food worthy of a Hogwarts-feast — and that every day now.

When Grindelwald had told him the scale of his family's wealthiness, even Draco, who had grown up spoiled and pampered with it, could barely grasp it. _13 billion Galleons!_

Draco owed this impossibly large sum not only to his parents(their vaults together had held _"only"_ 5 billion Galleons), but from his aunt and cousin, Bellatrix and Sirius, as well.

Since both of them were convicted war-criminals, their vaults' ownership had been transferred to their next relative Narcissa(Andromeda had been disinherited when she had married a Muggle-born).

Therefore, the contents of the Malfoy and Black vaults were all safely deposited in the vaults of Nurmengard Castle.

"Your house-elves can buy you as much goods as you want now," Grindelwald said.

"I'm happy enough with Muggle-clothing right now. Can't brag with expensive clothes when I'm declared dead, living in exile up in the Alps," Draco said bitterly.

"By the way, how does it come we _are_ alone here? How can it be that no one noticed that you are free?" Draco suddenly asked.

Grindelwald grinned in amusement. He always did that when he had outwitted someone, or when he came up with an ingenious plan.

"I escaped imprisonment quite regularly in the Revolution. Prisons are run by wizards, and wizards can be outwitted.

"When I was defeated in '45, Albus wouldn't risk another escape, so he imprisoned me in the most secure place that existed, my very own headquarters. Food appeared magically, the wards around the castle remained as I made them — no one could enter. My wandless magic was suppressed by the cell's wards — it took me years to take them down. And one lucky day, you came.

"Nurmengard is untraceable, Albus didn't notice that I broke the wards with the feeble wandless magic I had. He hasn't noticed that I reinstalled them either."

There was one thing that didn't fit — one fact that didn't make sense. "Why hasn't Dumbledore killed you in '45? You were dangerous, to imprison you was complicated. It makes no sense."

Grindelwald laid down the knife with which he had cut a steak and looked up at Draco, seemingly debating what to say. "It's complicated," he began after a while. He sounded bitter, resentful even.

"I met Albus when I was 16. We became good friends, back then. A _catastrophe_ happened, and we drifted apart forever. I've never seen him again until '45."

Draco has never, ever heard that story. All the history books, all the stories said that Dumbledore defeated Grindelwald and ended the war — nothing else. That they were _friends_ sounded so unlikely, so wrong that he could barely believe it.

"And… What exactly was the catastrophe?" Draco asked quietly, carefully. He knew that he was walking on a minefield right now.

"I will tell you that another time," Grindelwald said resolutely. Draco knew that this was the end of that discussion.

"You want to say something, something important, something about your family. Say it."

_I must get better at Occlumency, his mind-reading gets annoying._

"Have you read the newspaper today?" Draco asked.

Grindelwald nodded shortly, letting Draco continue, "The… _investigation_ of my and my parents murder has been stopped. My aunt Andromeda has prepared a funeral for tomorrow."

"You want to attend, say goodbye to your parents. You know it is dangerous, that you could be seen. You are unsure if it's wise. It is good to see that you start to evaluate your next actions more carefully."

"So… should I go?"

Grindelwald ate another bite of the steak before he answered, "You should. If you can accept that you are without parents now, if you can let go — you can start to remove the mind-barriers I installed in you. I postponed the moment when you have to face what happened that night, maybe this is your chance.

"I will teach you the Invisibility Charm, so you can attend the funeral. Remember to make yourself a legend, a story you tell in case someone sees you. Always be prepared for the worst case."

Still, it would be a risk for him. A great risk. "When someone from the ministry finds me, when I cast the Charm poorly, they will be after me. I killed Greyback and Yaxley!"

"Greyback was killed in a horrible fight against your parents, when he attacked these innocent souls. Yaxley was brutally murdered by a hooded stranger, blessed be his memory," Grindelwald laughed.

"When someone sees you, you will be Draco Malfoy, a frightened boy who is hiding somewhere far away and just wants to see his parents a last time. No one knows who you really are now. The ministry can't force you to go with them, you are an innocent after all.

"Do you understand what I mean?" Grindelwald said softly.

Draco nodded. "Perfectly."

**/**

_Three weeks, and they haven't managed to break the wards,_ Draco mused. The whole funeral was prepared, to be held a good 200 meters away from the manor itself, thanks to the ancient blood-wards of the manor. The guests, around one hundred of them, had already gathered, all of them dressed in black wizarding robes.

Draco saw Pansy, Theo, Crabbe, Goyle and Blaise with their families, gathered and talking to each other. From the small hill where Draco currently stood, leaning against a large apple tree, he could see their faces — they were not even fifty meters away from him, and yet, Draco had parted from them forever. _They are from Death-Eater families, I'll probably kill one of their parents soon._

Cornelius Fudge stood, not far away from them, talking to Nott Sr., Theo's father. _He has taken up Lucius' position,_ _the next_ _spy in the ministry,_ _buying favours and persuading wizards._

Draco let his gaze drift, looking over the other guests. Farthest away from his friends and Fudge, his aunt stood, together with her daughter and her husband. He didn't recognize her, but the similarities to Bellatrix(whose photo hang in the manor) were unmistakable. Draco's cousin, whose name he didn't even know, was talking to her mother. She had no similarities whatsoever to her mother, but he was quite sure she was Andromeda's daughter.

With a sudden surge of panic, Draco saw Albus Dumbledore, walking to his aunt and niece and talking to them. _I've practised Occlumency, I've applied the Invisibility Charm — he doesn't even know what I've done already,_ Draco thought, calming himself. _Keep a clear mind Draco, and no one can beat you._

Fudge has stopped talking to Nott Sr., eyeing Dumbledore with wariness. Suddenly, everybody stopped talking. Three coffins, each of them carried by four solemn-looking wizards in grey cloaks, appeared. They were carried and placed onto a large marble plate that stood foreign looking amongst the beautifully flourishing nature. _The last one is empty. That's my coffin._

His relaxed and interested mood changed the moment he saw the coffins. _They are dead. They. Are. Dead._

He had known they were dead of course, he had seen his mother's death with his own eyes. But seeing their coffins, knowing that their bodies were right here. _I'm watching my own burial. I'm fifteen; I've murdered, I've seen my mother getting murdered… What am I doing?_

A small, grey-haired wizard walked to a podium, and started talking.

" _My fellow wizards and witches, we have gathered here…_ "

Was he doing the right thing? Should he, a fifteen-year-old, risk his live in a feeble attempt to kill the Dark Lord? What chance could he possibly have to succeed? _I've killed Yaxley already, and Greyback. I did it, and I'm still learning from Grindelwald. I'm getting stronger! I will avenge my mother, I will find my sister, I will have something worth fighting for. Family._

_It will all be good. It must be._

The wizard had thankfully stopped talking. All the wizards stood up from their seats, watching as the marble enclosed itself over the coffins in a shower of white flames. _Goodbye mum._

The wizards started talking under themselves again, except for Draco's aunt and cousin, who had apparated the moment the funeral ended officially. _Not much love left between my family members…_

More and more wizards started to apparate away, leaving only his former school-friends, standing before _his_ _grave._

How they would look at him, dressed in Muggle-clothing. _T-Shirt and Shorts for my parent's funeral. My mother wouldn't care for that. And my father, well, fuck him!_

"You should join them," said a deep voice behind Draco.

Draco swallowed the shock and the fear inside him, ignored it. Relaxing his tense neck and shoulders, Draco removed the Invisibility Charm from himself, turning around to face Albus Dumbledore.

 _B_ _e a good actor, g_ _ather_ _as_ _much information_ _as_ _possible._

"Hello, Professor Dumbledore." Draco said calmly.

He stood up from his place, sitting against the tree. _I've ridden a toy-broom here when I was five, with my father._

"You have changed a lot," Dumbledore noted. _What does he mean with that? The Muggle clothes? The Invisibility Charm?_ _What can he know?_

"Well, seeing your mother getting raped by a werewolf on your father's orders makes you rethink some things." Draco retorted. _Sound just a bit like your former self, angry and arrogant._

Dumbledore was silent for a moment before saying with a deeply affected voice, "I'm sorry for all that has happened to you Draco. I had my theories about what happened to your parents, but what you are telling me sounds worse than anything I imagined.

"How are you, Draco?" Dumbledore asked after a short pause.

_Choose your words carefully…_

"Great, just perfect," Draco hissed, like he would've in his old life, being his old, bratty self.

"I'm sorry, that was a foolish question. You must be devastated after all that has happened to you," Dumbledore said with a heavy voice.

"You know nothing! You have no idea what I went through." _I sound so s_ _illy_ _. My old me was nothing but foolish._

"You are right, of course. I don't know what happened to you." Dumbledore nodded.

"But if you tell me, I might be able to help you."

 _Y_ _ou have to get his trust, he has to believe you if you want information. D_ _on't make it too easy, or he will be suspicious._

"I don't need help! I did it all alone, survived for weeks! I hid from _them_ without your help," Draco said proudly.

"It must have been terribly difficult to hide from Lord Voldemort's henchman. How did you do it?" Draco's shoulders twitched a little when Dumbledore said Riddle's nickname. _Old Draco would still be afraid of his name, at least a bit._

_Old Draco would start to gloat now, how he managed to survive. He was so stupid, old Draco…_

"After mother- when the werewolf killed her, I managed to escape. I apparated to France" _Austria_ "My mother had a friend there who is a healer.

"My father" _Grindelwald_ "told me about a spell to disable the Trace a year ago. I _taught myself_ how to Apparate without anyone noticing! I've travelled a lot since then." Draco made sure that he sounded overconfident, arrogant of every achievement.

Dumbledore smiled and nodded. "Your parents would be proud."

Then, suddenly, Dumbledore walked forward and placed his hands on Draco's shoulders, looking at him with piercing light-blue eyes.

"Listen Draco. I _can_ help you. Your aunt and cousins" _Cousins?_ "would surely be happy to take you in. You don't have to be alone anymore! You could stay with them, then return to Hogwarts in a few weeks. There is no need for you to live in exile, _we can help you!_ " Dumbledore said imploringly.

_He said cousins. I only have one cousin, haven't I? Who else does he mean…_

Making a mental note to think about it later, Draco focussed on Dumbledore's offer. The risk would be too great, he couldn't go with Dumbledore right now. He had to speak with Grindelwald, ask for his advice.

 _Old Draco wouldn't want to be patronized again._ Draco shook off Dumbledore's hands and retorted loudly, "So I can do _what_? Worry about homework and get my owls? I don't want your help! I don't want to stay with people I've never met. No one tells me what I have to do, and I want it to be like that. I'm no longer a child, I won't live like a child again."

"You enjoy your autonomy, I understand that," Dumbledore nodded. "And you are right again, I can't force you to do anything. But I need you to understand the danger you are in. Voldemort is after you Draco, he-" "I know that! My father invited him over for dinner, I spoke with him! I know what he wants to do, that's why he wants to kill me. Because _I refused his task._ " _I didn't refuse him, my mother did. She is the hero._

Dumbledore's eyes blazed shortly. _Now I got you._ "What does Voldemort want to do? What task he wanted you to do?" he asked gently.

"Why should I tell you? Why should I trust you!" _Tell me something valuable now!_

"My friends and I," Dumbledore said slowly, "are building a resistance, to stop Voldemort from getting stronger. What you can tell me might proof helpful."

 _A resistance. Grindelwald can do something with this information._ "And when I'm staying at my aunt's, I can be a part of that resistance? I could help to avenge my parents?" _Tell me more, Dumbledore. Grindelwald needs to know everything, tell me!_

"Your cousins are a part of this resistance, they can keep you informed."

"I don't want to be _informed!_ I want to help, I'm no child!" Draco snarled. _C'mon, convince me._

"You might not be a child, but you are an underage," Dumbledore said simply. "Underage wizards shouldn't risk their lives."

"You see! I _will be patronized_ by you! I think I will leave now," Draco hissed. _He won't tell me anything else without me going with him._ He quickly turned around and walked away- "Draco."

"What else?" Draco asked, stopping in his tracks. "If you ever need help, you are always welcome at Hogwarts."

Draco walked away without answering, already deeply in thought about the new information presented to him. He said c _ousins_ _—_ _who else is my cousin?_


	6. SIX

" _Herr God, Herr Lucifer_

_Beware_

_Beware._

— **Sylvia Plath**

* * *

"Very good." Grindelwald walked away from the window through which he always stared, out onto the vast lands of snow and mountains. _He looks lost in nostalgia whenever he looks outside._

"This was a test, wasn't it? You knew that Dumbledore would be there, you wanted to test me," Draco bit out angrily.

"That is only half the truth. I wanted to test you — that's true. But not your trust, your skills needed validation. You will have to fool a lot of people, and Dumbledore was the perfect testing ground."

Draco sat down at the table, a little calmer. The house-elves had already set the table. _About time, I'm starving._

"So you trusted me not to give Dumbledore vital information," Draco wondered.

"I have tested you many times already. When we began training, I was confident that you would grow tired within the first week. You surprised me — and that doesn't happen too often.

"I gave you a day off at the Muggle-beach to make you question your beliefs and prejudices. And you did question your father's ideology, didn't you? When I evaluated you to be prepared for the wizarding world, I sent you to Gringotts. You proved your loyalty then, and you even killed a Death-Eater."

It was frightening how easily Grindelwald was able to manipulate Draco. He had tested Draco, many times, _and I never noticed…_

"We have a delicate matter to discuss: Dumbledore." Grindelwald looked straight at him, his blue-whitish eye seemingly glowing, as if it emitted light by itself. _These eyes s_ _care me more_ _than V-Tom Riddles._

"Well," Draco shifted in his seat, sitting up straight, "I conclude that Dumbledore has started to fight Riddle. His supporters are already working against the Death-Eaters. I'm sure that my aunt and cousin are one of them, and this- _other cousi_ _n._ "

"You are sure that there are two cousins?" "He said _cousins._ So yes, at least two of them. I think Dumbledore was confident I would take the offer, that's why he told me so much at all."

Grindelwald made a motion with his left hand. One of the many notes that were piled up in the corner(moved away for dinner) flew onto the table.

"The Black family tree, copied out of _The Sacred Twenty-Eight in the modern time._ Take a close look."

Draco took the offered parchment. An excerpt of the complex Black family-tree was copied magically on the paper. Many names were crossed out, with small notes written besides the names. _Defected Death-Eater; Dead, presumably murdered_ was handwritten in Grindelwald's artistic German handwriting next to the name _Regulus Arcturus Black._

The only cousin besides Nymphadora Tonks, Andromeda's daughter, was… "Sirius Black. But he was a convicted Death-Eater, unless-"

"Unless he is innocent," Grindelwald finished for him. "If I'm not mistaken, Black escaped from imprisonment twice, the latter even happened at Hogwarts."

"And right under Dumbledore's nose, while dementors and Ministry personal guarded him," Draco snorted. "Dumbledore found out Black was innocent and freed him. And now Black, my cousin, is helping to fight against the Death-Eaters."

Grindelwald stood up and went to another table, picking up one of the books that he had bought through Wimpy, Draco's house-elf. "We know three likely supporters, but that's not enough to get an overview, to estimate Dumbledore's power. There was a note at one of the war-trial books after the First War, here…

" _Some of those brave enough to stand up against He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named and his Death-Eaters have declared to be part of an organization led by Albus Dumbledore, the so-called 'Order of the Phoenix'._ " Grindelwald placed _The Trails of the Wizarding War_ by Bathilda Bagshot back on the stack.

"The _Order of the Phoenix._ And you think that Dumbledore has rebuilt it?" "I'm sure of it," Grindelwald confirmed.

"I made lists of those who fought alongside Dumbledore in the First War and those who might support him now. It seems that Fudge has become afraid of Dumbledore, so the Order will have work in the shadows, or risk the ministry acting against them."

It all made sense to Draco, the _Order,_ an organization to stop Riddle — with Dumbledore as the leader. But still…

"And what will _we_ do?" Draco asked. "We know that the Order is fighting the Death-Eaters. But what are we to do?"

Grindelwald smirked. It seemed to Draco as if Grindelwald had waited for him to ask this question. _I asked the r_ _ight_ _question, finally._

"What is our goal, Draco?" "To kill Riddle, to prevent the Death-Eaters from rising." _To avenge my mother._

"Exactly. And Dumbledore? What does he want?" "He wants the same."

Draco didn't understand Grindelwald. _He can't think about allying himself with Dumbledore?! We are the bad guys, Dumbledore will fight us as well._

"So," Grindelwald continued, "What would be the most beneficial for us?"

"Dumbledore would never work with us. You are just another Tom Riddle for him!"

"Am I now? I don't kill Muggles for pleasure. My plans don't extend beyond killing Riddle." _Yeah,_ _for now!_

Draco knew that he was missing out something important. Grindelwald still didn't make any sense. "Yes," Draco retorted, "Dumbledore would choose you over Riddle, you would be the lesser evil. But he would still fight us as good as he could!"

Grindelwald's was still smirking. Somehow, he resembled the Weasley Twins when they had pulled an ingenious joke on someone. _In a cruel, twisted way._

"' _As g_ _ood_ _as he could'_? And what if he can't? What if he had to choose: Fighting or allying us?"

Suddenly, it clicked in Draco. What Grindelwald said made sense. Draco could see his plan, a clever, wicked plan that… "We don't give Dumbledore that choice! He will have to tolerate us, because he can't fight Riddle and you! He can either go against us and fight on two fronts, or he will work with us, and we will all work together against Riddle, and win."

If Dumbledore and Grindelwald fought together, Riddle wouldn't stand a chance. They would overwhelm him. "But the Order would never allow this. Dumbledore would risk loosing all his supporters when he worked together with Dark Wizards," Draco continued.

"Who killed Yaxley?" Grindelwald suddenly asked. "What?" Draco asked dumbstruck. "I killed him!" W _hat is he playing at?_

"No, who killed him? What are the people thinking?" "Well, they don't know I did it, they just know it was some cloaked stranger, but the truth is-"

"The truth doesn't matter. When enough people believe in a lie, it becomes the knew truth. You don't exist any more. I don't exist any more! My name is history, yours will be too, soon enough.

"Lord Voldemort is a person without a childhood, an evil without a past. He is hiding behind an alias, to obscure the muggle name he is ashamed of. We will create an alias as well — a character people can connect to. A person that inspires people. The Order will naturally want to meet a potential ally," Grindelwald finished.

"Dumbledore will look through it. He will know you are behind it — sooner or later he will find out," Draco said.

"He will, but he won't tell anyone," Grindelwald said solemnly.

 _Once more, he is making no sense!_ "Why? Dumbledore isn't a person to hold secrets from his friends."

Grindelwald smirk vanished. He had the same look that he always had when staring through the large window-panes, looking out at the Alps. _Melancholic, m_ _aybe even sad._

"He is hiding more secrets than anyone. He will be happy to fight alongside us, to take down Riddle. And he will hide the truth about me, like he has done for a good hundred years."

"I'm sorry, but you make no sense again," Draco said carefully, very carefully.

Grindelwald ignored that. "I will tell you a story, a very long one. Start eating already, and don't interrupt me."

Confused, Draco took a steak on his plate and watched as Grindelwald stood up, moving to the window-pane.

"When I was sixteen, I was expelled from Durmstrang," Grindelwald began.

"The experiments I did there became too wicked — the teachers were afraid of me. I was fascinated with history, lore and artefacts. Do you know the Tale of the Three Brothers?" "Yes" "Some wizards believe that this story for children is true — that there are indeed three artefacts created by Death himself.

"I became fascinated with the Deathly Hallows too. Gellert Grindelwald, _Master of Death._

"My father died before I was born, my mother when I turned twelve, so — as an underage — I couldn't stay in Germany, at my parent's home. My great-aunt, Bathilda Bagshot, offered for me to stay with her in Godric's Hollow." _That's where Potter's parents lived and died._

"Godric's Hollow is the resting place of Ignotus Peverell, who is said to be the youngest brother of the tale." "The Invisibility Cloak?"

"Yes indeed. It was the perfect place for me to go after I was expelled. But, as it happened to be, I wasn't the only teenager in that village. The Dumbledores were friends with Bathilda — she introduced me to Albus on the very first day." _They knew each other as teenagers?_

"You have to understand the situation of the Dumbledore family. It all started with Albus' younger sister, _Ariana._ She was attacked by Muggle boys at the age of six, when she performed magic in front of them. Ariana suffered a heavy trauma, became afraid of her magic — she was unable to control it.

"The father, Percival, killed the Muggles in revenge and was sent to Azkaban for it, where he died.

"The family then moved to Godric's Hollow, where Ariana was kept hidden and denied."

Grindelwald's voice changed. He sounded melancholic again. "When a child suppresses magic, an Obscurus develops. This Obscurus becomes a part of the person. An Obscurial wizard or witch is extremely powerful — and also highly unstable. Emotions can loosen this power. Therefore, an Obscurial is a danger to everyone around it.

"Ariana had an episode when she was fourteen years old. Her mother died in it. Albus had just finished school and insisted that his younger brother Aberforth finished his education, so he stayed alone at Godric's Hollow with his sister — and so I met them.

"We became very good friends, two brilliant boys with great egos and little experience of the real world. We made plans for revolution, to reunite wizards and Muggles again — with us as _rules of the world_. After what happened to Ariana, Albus had a certain hatred against Muggles, which I encouraged. He, too, became fascinated with the Deathly Hollows, and so we made plans for dominance and revolution. _For the Greater Good_ was Albus slogan, actually." Grindelwald chuckled.

"Albus and I became close friends. And Ariana — when I found out about her. I became obsessed with her too.

"Her parents and brothers always saw the Obscurus as a disease, something dangerous to be contained. But only I realized that suppressing it was exactly the wrong thing to do. I talked with Ariana — always behind Albus' back, because he would never approve. I taught her some easy spells, taught her how to control the magic she had. She was extraordinarily powerful, and when I was with her, she was almost normal, almost _free._ We developed a kind of relationship, without Albus ever knowing.

"But _then,_ then Aberforth came back from school, and Albus told him proudly how he and I were about to start a revolution, how we would avenge Ariana and free all wizarding kin. Aberforth became angry, very angry. I heard him yelling in the garden, how Albus neglected Ariana, what a horrible brother he was to his little sister.

"Aberforth came into the house, finding me with Ariana, teaching her spells. He send her up to her room, and then it became very ugly. He yelled at me how I would gamble with Ariana's life, I yelled at him how he was imprisoning his own sister.

"I snapped, and drew my wand. I used the Cruciatus Curse, I'm not proud of it…

"Albus saw me, and a three-way duel began. We were all driven by anger, attacking each other wild and without any reason."

Grindelwald turned around, looking at Draco who hadn't taken a single bite from the steak on his table.

"Ariana saw us duelling in the garden, she sprinted down, trying to stop us. She ran in the crossfire and a spell hit her in the head. She was dead laying in the grass, and I ran away — everything was in pieces.

"I later heard how Aberforth broke Albus nose at the funeral, blaming him for their sister's death. I continued with my plans, alone and left in bitterness and regret. I even found the Elder Wand, the first Hallow. But with the years, my intentions blurred more and more — when I met Albus again in '45, I didn't remember what I was fighting for."

Uncomfortable, thick silence filled the room. Draco's mind was spinning, working with all the knew information, trying to put them in place with the image of the wise, old Albus Dumbledore he knew.

"But you said that Ariana was powerful, thanks to her Obscurus. You said that you taught her how to control it. How could she die by one simple spell — the three of you didn't use the Killing Curse, did you?" Draco asked slowly.

Grindelwald stared blankly at the table — the mismatched light and dark eyes once more looking at something miles and years away.

"There was another Obscurial, later, who I had planned to use as a weapon. He was struck down by at least two dozen MACUSA Aurors. His body was obliterated, but the Obscurus survived and rebuild itself."

"So Ariana might've survived?" Draco asked in disbelief. _Another lost sister, just like mine._

"It- is possible," Grindelwald said softly. His face, rejuvenated by the Elixir of Life to a good fifty years, suddenly looked old again — as old as the ancient, thin man that Draco had first found rotting in a cell.

Grindelwald jerked his eyes away from the table, "Now you know why Albus won't turn against me, as long as we help to fight Riddle. We know some members of his Order already, our goal right now is to gather more information. We will start the training in an hour, eat."

**/**

Gellert Grindelwald had had visions and dreams for the greatest part of his life. It had all started in his second year at Durmstrang, when the headmaster had pulled young Gellert out of a history lesson to inform him about his mother's death. That night, when he had finally started sleeping, after thinking for hours _why_ his mother had to be so reckless to mix highly toxic ingredients without proper safety wards, young Gellert had a dream.

He never had dreams before, but that night he dreamed about Aunt Bathy, writing a letter to him, sending Gellert a stack of fascinating history books to console her nephew.

When young Gellert had received both letter and books a week later (it took some time for the owls to fly from Britain to Sweden, where Durmstrang was hidden), he _knew_ that he, like his mother and grandmother before him, was a Seer.

This precious gift had never fooled him, had never proven wrong. His dreams had held truth, hidden in riddles and symbols, yes of course, but they had always told him something.

And this night, after telling young Draco about his past with the Dumbledores, Grindelwald had a dream that scared him to death.

 _Gellert was sitting at a small table. Across from him sat a girl_ _with long blonde hair_ _, m_ _aybe_ _fifteen_ _years old_ _, looking at him._

" _Who are you?" Gellert asked._

" _I don't know." The young woman answered. Her voice was strong and_ _authoritative_ _, just like his own._

" _Why are you here?" Gellert asked. "Because you want to see me. You want to find me._

" _Who are you?" the girl asked him. "I think I am your father."_ _Gellert answered._

" _I think you are my grandfather," the girl r_ _etorted_ _. "_ _You know where I am. I will wait h_ _ere."_

" _Where are you?" Gellert asked again. "You know. Papa._ _Großvater._ _"_

 _T_ _he girl looked_ _straight_ _at him. Her left eye, like his ow_ _n_ _, w_ _as of_ _such a deep brown it looked black._

 _H_ _er right eye was of a familiar grey,_ _except for the thin white ring at the edge._

Grindelwald woke from his slumber. It came to him, without any reason, without any logic. _You know where I am._

**/**

In a hotel-room in Bonn, a fifteen-year-old girl woke up, having had the strangest of dreams. The girl was meant to return to her family in the USA tomorrow, after a week-long stay in this city that she had wanted to visit.

 _I_ _will stay one more day,_ the young Miss Grauthal, daughter of Fiona Grauthal, thought.

**/**

It was a late, a very late evening.

Draco Malfoy was exhausted and, not to forget, disappointed.

He had searched and searched through every wizarding inn, had been in every hotel — even in the _Dancing Veela_ (through he doubted that his sister was staying in that kind of hotel).

This morning, Grindelwald had told him to start the search for his sister — and not in the USA, like he had told him at the beginning, but in Bonn, Germany.

" _Your sister is staying in Bonn right now." "You told me the paper of the letter came from the USA. How can you know that she is in Germany?"_

" _Dreams. Dreams and visions. I saw your sister last night, but she didn't look like I had expected, not at all…"_

" _What do you mean?" "I don't know. Not yet. Nothing makes sense. I see only shards and fragments, with a bidder taste. The solved puzzle will taste better,_ _or, so_ _I hope."_

" _What does that mean? You are speaking in riddles."_

" _I saw nothing but riddles in my visions. You will bring answers back here, as will I._ _Today is a Friday, we shall meet_ _again_ _here at Monday. Farewell."_

Draco had hoped that all he had to do was bribing the owner's of all wizarding hotels and inns to give him their guest lists — but the name Grauthal wasn't mentioned on them.

So here he was now sitting in a muggle bar, after a long day of asking, bribing and modifying memories. _I can't even go into a wizards' pub without risking being recognized here in Europe…_

Draco was reading a German muggle book about muggle history right now, partly because it interested him, partly because he found his language skills in German were in need of refreshment. His father had organized teachers for French- and German lessons when Draco had turned seven — now was the first time that it came in useful for him. _"_ _A proper pure-blood can speak with foreign families in their native tongue. We must always impress, remember that Draco."_

Was he really being thankful to his damn father, who had killed his wife and tried to kill his son? "Ein Bier bitte." Draco muttered to the barman, an elderly man in a dark dress-shirt.

"Are you eighteen already?" the barman asked sceptically in German. Draco took a twenty-dollar bill from the pockets of his muggle jeans and laid it on the table.

The barman looked at it for a second, then took the money and drew a beer for Draco. _Muggle bear, muggle literature and muggle clothing. What would my_ _poor_ _mother say._

Reminding himself bitterly that his mother was dead and unable to judge her son, Draco took the bear from the barman and took a long gulp.

The oak wood entrance-door opened. Many heads turned around as a muggle girl entered. _Fleur looks like a banshee next to her,_ Draco thought in amazement. The girl had long, sleek hair, the silver and gold strands falling down past her shoulders, ending at her spine just before her hips. The girl was tall, at least 6.5 feet, and yet she couldn't be older than seventeen.

But Draco found her most intimidating features to be her eyes: Differently coloured, mismatched eyes that gave her a wicked, scary and yet beautiful look. Her left eye seemed to be of a dark brown, even through it looked black in the dim light of the pub — but her right eye was grey like his own, except for the thin white ring around the edge. _Seems to be common for Germans to have scary eyes,_ Draco thought, reminded of his mentor.

The muggle girls' eyes scanned the room before she went up to the bar and sat down next to Draco.

"How much did you pay him that he gave you a beer?" the girl asked Draco quietly. Draco gave her a sceptical look, until the corner of her lips tugged upwards. _Clever and beautiful, rare combination._

"I gave him twenty dollars," Draco hummed softly.

"A Britain paying with American currency in a German pub. Fascinating," the girl noted while motioning for the barman to give her a beer, laying a twenty-dollar bill on the counter. The barman looked angrily at the two of them, about to say something, before he rethought it and took the money.

"Why would you say I'm British?"

"Oh, only a Britain would say _twenty dollars_ instead of twenty bucks. Besides, your accent is horribly British."

_What a smart-ass. I like her._

"Danke," the girl said to the barman in a perfect, accent-free German. She raised her beer. "Prost!"

"What?" Draco asked startled. "You say _Prost_ when you drink with someone here in Germany," the muggle explained.

They both took long gulps from their jugs. "So, what is your name beautiful?" Draco asked with a grin. _I've_ _spent the whole day searching_ _, I can_ _afford_ _flirt_ _ing_ _around a bit._

"Ariana" "Draco" _Ariana, what a coincidence,_ Draco thought in wonder. Something was fishy here, but as he looked at the beautiful girl, his thoughts lost him.

"Tell me, Draco, what are you doing here in Bonn, clearly it's your first time in Germany?" Ariana's differently coloured eyes looked at Draco, and it felt like they would look through him, right into his mind.

"I'm searching for someone." Draco said quietly. "And have you found that someone yet?" Ariana asked, her eyes sharp and probing.

"No, not yet. But as you said, it's my first day here. Your turn now — what is a beautiful girl doing here, alone in a pub at night?"

Ariana was quiet for a second, sipping from her beer, before she answered, "I've spent some time of my short life in foreign countries. I've been to Leipzig, Hamburg and Berlin, but I've always wanted to visit Bonn. It's my last day here, you know. I will return to Washington tomorrow.

"And you, where are you staying tonight handsome?" Ariana asked. She looked at him with a small grin.

It made no sense for Draco to continue his search know, at 10 in the evening. He would continue asking around tomorrow, at fresh daylight. And besides, he needed a place to stay for the night. And she was beautiful — very beautiful.

"I thought I would find myself an inn on the way, but I'm flexible," Draco said, drowning the last bit of his bear.

The muggle girl drowned her bear in one gulp (which was an impressive half litre), and stood up, moving for the doors. "I've got a large bed at my hotel," Ariana sang over her shoulder.

Draco had already slept with a muggle girl, so now there would be no damage done, right? _What damage? Your father is dead, he can't judge you,_ Draco corrected himself angrily, following Ariana out of the pub. _And besides, she is damn beautiful…_

**/**

The room was filled with darkness, Draco could barely see the hands before his eyes. Memories flashed through Draco's mind as he slowly woke up, the warm limbs of his newest one-night stand still entangled with him.

Carefully, Draco slipped out of the bed, his naked form searching the floor for his jeans, where he kept his wand stored. _Way too early for wandless magic…_

 _Lumos,_ Draco thought, casting the room in a cold blue light. He concentrated, letting the light-bulb on the tip of his mother's wand getting smaller. _Would be a shame if she woke and I had to erase her memory,_ Draco thought, looking down at the beautiful naked body before him.

Ariana really was a young goddess, Draco concluded, staring at her spotless fair skin. His musings about Ariana and her body came to an abrupt end when her face, which had been relaxed and partly-hidden under streaks of silver-blonde hair, slowly formed a grin that became broader and broader.

"Have you had a nice view of everything, hmm?" Ariana murmured softly. _She is damn good at feigning sleep, fuck!_

Draco's brain worked hard and quick to think of a way to explain the wand in his hand, a way not to memory-charm her. _Maybe I say-_

" _Nox._ "

Ariana, her eyes still closed, had risen her left hand, the palm facing Draco's wand. Her lips, which had just spoken the wandless spell, were tugged upward in a small smile.

" _You are a witch?_ " Draco asked in disbelief. _She played me. Damn it she played me!_

"Took you long enough," Ariana said happily, sitting up to stretch her arms, giving Draco an excellent view of her full, round breasts.

"When did you notice?" Draco casually asked, swallowing his pride at being tricked. _Your ego has been an obstacle in your old life already, don't let it become one in this one._

Ariana moved forward, slowly kissing her way down Draco's neck, "the moment I entered the bar," she hummed against his chest.

Draco quickly moved on top of her, his face inches away from Ariana's.

"How much time do we have before you take your portkey to Washington?" "I- hmm… I will apparate whenever I want." "Breaking the law, bad girl." " _Oh yes!_ But I use the same charm to hide the trace as you do, my fellow partner-in-crime. _Hmm, right there…_ "

Draco laid his head back against the pillows, panting slightly. "You've got a remarkable talent at detecting magic you know. And at other things — very talented there too."

Ariana exhaled slowly, relaxing against the bed, "In America, underage wizards and witches are not allowed to keep their wands. You get them at school and leave them there for the holidays. I've never been to Ilvermorny and have never been owner of a wand, therefore my wandless skills are _excellent,_ forgive me for my arrogance," she grinned. _I will forgive you if you do with your lips what you did last night._

Draco turned his head to her. "You have never been to school?" he asked in astonishment.

Silence reigned over the room for a moment until Ariana decided to answer. "It's a bidder story, and I will only share a small part of it," Ariana said in a _very_ different relaxed, snarky attitude was gone entirely. _Fair enough, I haven't told you about my sister or Grindelwald or_ anything _either…_

"I'm used to dark stories — I'm a dark story myself, so tell me."

Ariana's light and dark eyes, which were fixed on Draco's, now seemed to look through him, at far, far away events and places.

"My mother raised me alone," she began, "and I've grown up very isolated and lonely. She was a loving woman, but she kept to herself, and had but a few friends. Her mother had died in childbirth, and her father — well he… works at MACUSA, the American government. He wasn't prepared to raise a child alone, and his work had always been his life.

"Mum grew up as an independent, strong woman, and she taught me to be one too. When I was four, she met an Auror, who soon became my stepfather. She became pregnant again, but a month after my little sister was born-"

Ariana turned away from Draco, facing the ceiling. Draco could see the side of her face, it was stony and seemingly emotionless. When she spoke again, her voice sounded hollow, somehow distant.

"Both my mother and stepfather- they died in an accident a month after my sister was born, when I was six." "I'm so s-" " _Afterwards,_ " she continued, cutting him off, "I was left with a little sister to take care of, and a grandfather who loved us, but never had the time.

"My grandpa has- _serviceman_ who gave me lessons and all. Like I told you back in the pub — I travel a lot. But I'm never gone longer than a week, so Aurelia, my sister, isn't left alone, and still…

"What about your parents?" Ariana asked after a while.

Draco couldn't tell her too much, she was clever enough to figure out his identity, if she hadn't done so already. But Draco felt drawn to her in a way that he had never been drawn to someone. He had to tell someone who understood him.

"I grew up a spoiled, arrogant brat — a racist brat who looked down on every muggle-born that he saw." _To say the least._ "My parents both… _died_ just a few weeks ago. My father was the reason they died. He is the reason for so many bad things…"

Draco grew silent, unsure what more to add that wouldn't give away too much. _You told her your first name and the date your parents died! She will figure it out anyway_ _._

"You are angry at your father, you hate him," Ariana sighted. "I know that feeling. My _father_ seduced my mother and left her that same night, not bothering himself to look after his bastard daughter. Mum never told me his name, and it's for the better I think."

Slowly, very slowly at first, Draco realized a few things. And as he began to think further, everything fell into place, the pieces snowballing rapidly into a puzzle that Draco should've solved earlier, _way earlier._

"Ariana," Draco asked with a shaky voice, "what is your last name?"

"Grauthal."

It felt like time stood still as Draco stared in shock at her, disbelieve written all over his face. Then he scrambled backwards, away from her, out of his sister's bed.

**/**

Grindelwald could hardly recognize the village. To be fair, he hadn't visited Godric's Hollow in a century, but still… _The place is not as it should._

Invisible, he strolled through the alleyways, searching for- _there it is._

The graveyard, where he had spent hours as a teenager, looking at Ignotus Peverell's tombstone, looked just the same, but for a few new graves.

He strolled along the gravestones, passing Lily and James Potter, passing Ignotus Peverell, passing Kendra Dumbledore- there.

Ariana Dumbledore, 1885-1899 — _"Where your treasure is, there will your heart be also._

Albus had chosen it for sure, this beautiful epitaph that held a lie. All could've been so different, so much better. But maybe, maybe not all was lost.

The girl _was_ an Obscurial, Grindelwald knew that for sure. And hadn't he had seen with his own eyes how the Obscurial Credence was blown apart by MACUSA, how he died — and yet survived?

He stared at the grave, the grave that might or might not contain her. They had buried a body, but the Obscurus could've created a new one for the host.

_Are you out there, Ariana? But why, why haven't you returned, if you are indeed still alive?_

"Why are you here Gellert?" a voice croaked behind him.

Gellert didn't turn around. He knew that Bathilda would find him here, sooner or later.

"Will you tell Albus that I'm free again?" Gellert asked in a light voice.

Bathilda appeared besides him, buckled and tired. "So you can fight each other again and hurt all the persons around you? No, I won't. Tell me what you want. You haven't come to visit her."

Gellert turned and faced his great-aunt. Age had left its marks, marks that he should've had too. _But I used the Elixir of Life._

"You are wrong, Bathy. I came _because_ of her. I know she was an Obscurial. If she has indeed survived, she would've turned to you for help first."

Bathilda's face twisted and twitched in anger. "All of you were monsters to her! Kendra, Albus, Aberforth and _you,_ you all mistreated her and kept her a prisoner in her own home!" she moaned.

"She came to me, after her own _burial._ Ariana wanted to leave, leave all of this behind, leave all of you behind! I swore not to tell anyone where she went, and I won't," she continued quietly.

Gellert turned away again, looking once more at the tombstone that bore her name. "I don't want know where she went, I already know."

"Then _why are you here?_ "

Gellert sighted. He had to ask, even if it meant to tell Bathilda what he had done.

"When she came to you and asked for help — was she pregnant?"

Bathilda opened and closed her mouth, her face drawn into a shocked grimace. Gellert felt a sharp sting on his cheek where Bathilda had just slapped him.

"You pig! You disgusting cockroach! She was fourteen and you…"

"I won't try to justify what I did, it was wrong and I knew that. But I did not force her in any way, she wanted it too."

Bathilda looked away from Gellert, turning her back to him. "It sickens me to think that somewhere out there, your child breathes," she admitted.

"From what I know, my granddaughter breathes too. And she might have a grey eye," Gellert murmured.

"What does that mean?" "I will know that soon."


	7. SEVEN

Half an hour had passed since Draco had found out the truth. Half an hour, spent with a long, _thorough_ shower. Draco was still in a state of shock, half an hour later.

“My _dear brother,_ ” Ariana laughed sitting down opposite to Draco, her long hair still wet from the shower. She was dressed in jeans and pullover, grinning at Draco over the kitchen-table.

“Why are you so happy?” Draco asked quietly. “I found out I have a half-brother, isn’t that a reason to be happy?” his sister said innocently.

“I’ve been so stupid,” Draco muttered, “You have the same, sleek hair — your right eye looks exactly like mine and-”

“You still didn’t notice,” she chuckled. “My theory is that: Your brain told you to ask me about my parents, but your cock told your brain that a nice pair of-” “You really find that amusing, do you?” Draco hissed.

“I’ve accidentally slept with my half-brother, of course it’s funny!” she laughed. “Okay, I’ll stop,” she added, seeing Draco’s face.

“Thank you. Now, how shall we proceed?” Draco asked.

“Well, first of all, tell me how you found me, _Drakey._ ”

“First of all, don’t call me that,” Draco said.

“All of this began when my fourth year at Hogwarts ended, a few weeks ago. Lord Voldemort — that means Tom Riddle — regained his body back then. My- _our_ father was a supporter of him, a _Death-Eater._ He thought Riddle to be some kind of _invincible god,_ because he didn’t die, even though he should have…”

D raco went into a lengthy explanation of the events after his return from Hogwarts. He, of course, concealed the rather important part of Grindelwald and Nurmengard Castle, and instead told how he successfully apparated to the cottage in Austria.  He told his sister how he killed Greyback, how his father was killed for his failure, how he went to Gringotts to reclaim his heritage and, finally, how he found the letter  from Ariana’s mother  and how he killed Yaxley.

The story of course didn’t explain how he found her in Bonn and it seemed that Ariana thought the same, but she  thankfully  didn’t press the matter further.

“You can ask me too, you know,” Ariana said quietly. “You told me about your scars, you can ask me about mine too.”

“You don’t have to tell me, you don’t owe me anything.”

A riana laughed a rather sober laugh, “You explained how you got your whole back scattered with scars, now it’s my turn.”

Draco of course knew what she meant. Last night when they… when he saw her, he had noticed scars around both of her wrists, and he had guessed what it meant.

“Okay. Why did you try to kill yourself? The scars look rather new, it can’t have happened so long ago.” Draco said softly. _Way too young to try suicide._

“I told you how my mother and step-father died when I was six years old, after my little sister Aurelia was born. I didn’t understand what had happened. I remembered that I talked with them, that I became angry. Then, suddenly, there was an explosion, and they both… that’s how I remembered it.”

A riana bit her lip and looked down at her lap. Her face was drawn into painful, sorrow-filled lines.

“When I turned thirteen, my grandpa’ told me what happened: His wife, Aria, had a unique blood-curse. The curse resembles that of an Obscurus, through not as unstable. We think that Aria might’ve had a parent who was an Obscurus, we don’t know. She grew up as an orphan, the parents are unknown. Grandmother died before I was born, and my mother Fiona never showed any signs of that curse, so they all thought that I didn’t have it. They were wrong.”

A riana looked up again, staring at Draco with her strange light and dark eyes. “I am the reason that they died.  When I was six, when my mother and step-father took care of their youngest daughter, I grew jealous, angry. I felt neglected, the selfish child I was.

“My little sister, Aurelia, was sent to grandpa for a week while the three of us made a trip to New York, where my step-father had inherited a small house. At the end of that trip, we were meant to return to Washington, to grandpa and Aurelia.

“I didn’t want it; I wanted to stay in New York, alone with my parents, I wanted to have them for myself. I became angry, they tried to console me, but I just- _slipped._ That’s how we knew that I inherited the curse, like Aria did — because I killed my mother and step-father.”

D raco stood up and went over to his sister. “ It’s not your fault, you didn’t kill them,”  Draco said softly.

“Isn’t it? I became angry, that’s why I slipped. If Aurelia or grandpa would’ve been there, they would be dead too.”

“You didn’t know what you did.”

A riana laughed bitterly. “When a child plays in the house and smashes a vase, it might’ve been an accident, but it’s still the child’s fault.”

“You can’t see it like that, you didn’t know that you had the curse.”

“It’s still my fault,” she said softly. “And I thought that too when grandpa told me what happened, when I was thirteen. I ran away from him and the- the serviceman. I locked myself in my room, smashed a glass and used a shard to kill myself. I felt so guilty, I didn’t want to live with that guilt. I of course ignored that I had Aurelia to take care of — I was selfish again.

“It was petty of course. Grandpa found me and healed the wounds.”

A riana chuckled lightly, “I was quite brilliant, even at thirteen. I enchanted the glass-shard to make the wounds deeper  — that  i s why the scars remained.”

“And I thought that my story was dark,” Draco murmured.

“It became brighter after that. I studied and trained more than ever, I helped Aurelia as best as I could — I became quite something. Grandpa had me home-schooled by the _serviceman,_ so I learned duelling from the very best Aurors in the country.”

“I don’t understand — why are your grandfather’s serviceman Aurors?”

Ariana stood up and grinned at Draco – her old, happier self was back. “That’s a surprise. You will find out soon.  I told you, I must return to him today  — you will come along and meet your little sister.”

“Aurelia is not related to me,” Draco protested. _I really don’t want to explain myself to your grandfather, thank you._

“She is ten years old — she will see you as our brother, and you better accept that,” Ariana said happily. “And as for my grandfather…”

F or the first time, Draco saw Ariana nervous. “ Be  _very_ careful around him. He is quite, eh,  intimidating.  He might not like the son of his daughter’s seducer.”

D raco searched through his pockets and took out  two shrunken items,  as well as his wand.

“ _Engorgio._ ”

D raco offered a piece of parchment and a silver ring to Ariana.

“What is this?” she asked, taking the items.

“The letter our father wrote to Fiona. The ring… it’s the Malfoy family ring. You are a few months older than me, by right, you are the heir.”

A riana laid the letter on the kitchen-table and inspected the ring closer. “ Goblin-made silver, with the Malfoy  crest. I know about my family for an hour, and now you want me to be the heir?”

D raco looked at his father’s ring. “ I wear one too, as the oldest son. They are mere symbolism now, I already emptied the vaults they open.”

“And by the way,” Draco continued, watching as Ariana slipped on the Malfoy ring, “we share a fortune of 13 billion galleons.”

Ariana eyes widened slightly, but otherwise, she gave no sign of surprise. “ That’s around 80 billion bucks, huh.”

“Why are you calculating in Muggle currency?” Draco wondered.

A riana laughed, “You really know nothing about America. The President made quite some reforms over the last decade. He removed the old wizarding currency — no more Dragot’s and Sprink’s, now all Americans, No-Majes and Wizards alike, trade with dollars.  That’s not the only major change, but you will see that soon.”

“What do you mean?”

“You will see, believe me.”

**//**

_Fuck_

A  loud, muffled sound echoed in the otherwise silent room as the letter was smashed down on the heavy oak-table.

The president looked down at the small, intricate handwriting.  _Goddamn Dumbledore._

He had been informed of the potential rebirth of this so-called Lord Voldemort.  _Yeah, Dumbledore says he’s never been dead._

Dumbledore explained the situation in his letter, the letter in which he asked _him,_ President of MACUSA, for a meeting. _In secrecy, meeting him on British Soil — not going to happen._

He had to decide, soon, if MACUSA was to support the fight against Voldemort.  _Which can’t happen until_ _that chickenshit Fudge is gone._

A meeting with Dumbledore was important  — very important. And yet, if he entered Britain in secrecy, he would undermine Fudge.  _If this chickenshit finds out, he’ll go berserk_ _on me_ _._

But would that be a bad thing? The ICW was already sceptical, at least since Dumbledore’s speech where he got himself kicked out.  _Declaring Voldemort’s return before a general assembly of world-leaders, l_ _ooks like the_ _old man has balls after all._

F udge freaking out might be a good thing after all.

_If I go there, I’ll have to deal with old’ Dumbledore._

“Sir.”

The President looked up. One of his officer’s (of the Presidential guard — special unit of Aurors), has entered his office.

“Your granddaughter has arrived, Sir. With a guest.”

“Well? Let them in already.”

**//**

“Theodore, is that right?” Lord Voldemort hissed.

Theodore Nott sat, besides his father, at their dinner-table in the Nott mansion.

Nott Sr. hadn’t told his son who exactly would meet them in their home, but the moment his father had told him, Theodore had a bad feeling about it.

“Yes, my Lord,” Theo answered, hopefully with a voice that wasn’t shaking as badly as his hands under the table.

“Now, Theodore. I’m sure you have wondered what happened to your friend, Draco, and his family.”

Voldemort smiled. It looked grotesque.

“Lucius Malfoy came to me, shortly before your school-year had ended, with an idea. A _plan,_ to finally kill Harry Potter, who, once more, had escaped his death.”

Voldemort’s voice shook with anger, his snake-like nostrils flaring.

“This plan had to be executed by someone inside of Hogwarts. Lucius told me that Draco would be happy to volunteer, to contribute to our cause. Can you guess what happened?”

Theo shivered. “He- He refused.”

Voldemort let out a hollow, hissing laugh. “Oh no. Young Draco was too much of a coward to refuse, to deny me. He and his mother tried to run away. They tried to escape from their own home.

“I had foreseen it, of course. I told Lucius, what to do, if they dared to try it. But he too was a coward,” Voldemort hissed.

“My loyal henchman was dead, the boy had escaped, and Lucius – my useless right-hand man – I found him, sobbing over his traitor-wife’s body.”

Voldemort observed Theodore for a second, looking for any reaction. But Theo was frozen, looking at the table, unable to speak.

“I had to kill Lucius, of course,” Voldemort continued. “But Harry Potter is still alive, and I still need Lucius’ plan to be set in motion. You see, your father here assured me that you could take Draco’s place.”

T heodore was torn out of his stupor. “What?” he whispered, his voice barely audible.

“You heard right, boy. You will take Draco’s place – your father will give you the details. Remember Theodore, remember what happened to Draco.”

V oldemort’s bone-white face blurred before Theo’s eyes, and in the next moment, Lord Voldemort had vanished.

**//**

“So, if I understand that right,” Wilhelm Schwartzsteen, President of MACUSA and grandfather of Ariana, Draco’s sister, began.

“You escape from that half-blood cocksucker, thanks to your mum. You apparate for the first time, wounded, with your mum’s wand and across a continent – and, hitting the bullseye, you arrive at your cottage. Then you spent the next few weeks teaching yourself, planning revenge.

“And when you get to Gringotts to clear out your vaults before Fudge does, you find this letter.”

Schwartzsteen held up the copy of his daughter’s letter to Lucius. He stood up from his rather impressive desk and marched up to Draco.

If he wouldn’t have spent the last weeks in company of Grindelwald, learning Occlumency, Draco would’ve tried to run by now.

His sister’s grandfather was an impressive man.  With over seven feet in height, Schwartzsteen’s muscular frame alone would’ve made most men cower.

B ut the President’s most intimidating features were his eyes. Bold lilac eyes, framed by thick black hair and trimmed beard, made the advancing President truly fearsome.

Draco stood straight, looking up defiantly into the President’s  eyes.

“Sorry boy, but that seems quite unlikely.”

“Well,” Draco began with a smile, “it seems just as unlikely as finding your half-sister – then finding out her grandfather is the President. Miracles happen, sometimes they happen twice.”

S chwartzsteen bellowed a laugh, returning to his desk. “I start to like you, boy.”

He picked up another letter and handed it to Draco, who took it.

“Let’s see if there’s something behind that pretty blonde head. Tell me, what would you?”

D raco began to read the letter, written in small, ornate handwriting.

_Honored Mr. President,_

_in all the decades of your presidency, it happens that I never had the pleasure to meet you._

_It is now, in very dire times, that I ask you to meet me, and my loyal friends, at our home._

_I hope that we might discuss the return of Tom Riddle, whom you know as Lord Voldemort._

_The British Ministry of Magic, and Minster Fudge above all, cannot know that we ever met._

_All of us in Britain have heard of your legendary reputation to ignore rules and laws,_

_when it serves your country._

_In the hope that you will meet up to that,_

_Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore_

  
  


_ PS: 12 _ _ th _ _ Grimmauld Place, Islington, London –  _ _ W _ _ henever you find the time _

  
  


_Dumbledore wants the help MACUSA. This might decide the war._

“’ _In the hope that you will meet up to your reputation_ ’, that sounds quite challenging,” Draco noted.

“I’ve been known to be an unusual President,” Schwartzsteen said, leaning back in his seat to rest his feet on the table. “I have been in office since 1945’, since Grindelwald’s downfall. For fifty years I’ve won every election. I received a similar letter from Dumbledore when Voldemort made trouble in 1970. Told him I wouldn’t help, told him Voldemort is his problem.”

“But back then, the ministry fought him. Now however, Dumbledore is all that stands against him.”

“Good to see you have some brains,” Schwartzsteen said dryly. “If I do nothing, Voldemort might take over the country. And with Britain under his thumb, he can be dangerous to other nations. If I support Dumbledore, I will go behind Fudge’s back, and Fudge is already pissed at me. Don’t ask.”

“I would meet with Dumbledore, get a better insight without committing myself to anything.”

“Ariana, I want to speak with Draco alone for a second.” Ariana, who had sat quietly at a chair besides Schwartzsteen, stood up and waited outside. _She’s v_ _ery quiet_ _around her grandfather,_ Draco thought.

The President was silent for a while, then, “You know how old I am?”

“Eh, no Sir,” Draco said, startled.

“Guess,” Schwartzsteen said.

“Well, you said you were made President in 1945, so you must be at least 80.”

Schwartzsteen chuckled. “86, yes. I’m an old man already, though not as old as Dumbledore of course.”

The President stood up, moving to the window. “Do you know,” he began slowly, “that I fought in the Global War?”

“No, I did not,” Draco admitted. _Where is he going with this?_

“My parents immigrated to America, I was five when we left Germany. After I finished school, I started my career as an Auror. I was good, I was the best. I became Head of the Hit-Wizard section after eight years.

“When the war started, the Hit-Wizards were commissioned to capture Grindelwald and his acolytes. Merlin, what a stupid idea.”

D raco began to get uncomfortable. Somehow, he had a feeling that Schwartzsteen knew,  _ about him. _

“Then the day came. We got a location and a time: I led a team of the nine best Hit-Wizards from around the globe. We waited there, and Grindelwald arrived. Before any of us fired a single spell, he whipped his wand.”

S chwartzsteen chuckled. A cold feeling spread through Draco at the sound. “ All nine of them, the best of the best, killed by one spell from him.  But not me, no.

“I was the only one fast enough to conjure a shield. I was flung through the air. I laid there, wandless, between the corpses of my team. When I saw Grindelwald standing over me, I knew it was over.

“But he didn’t raise his wand, no. He looked at me with his crazy eyes, and said, ‘ _No, not you. I will spare you, because you will be important to me, one day. I_ _have fore_ _see_ _n_ _it._ ’ Then he left, apparated.

“The war ended, a few years later. I became President.

“I married Aria Grauthal five years later. There is a picture of her on my desk. Take a long, _good_ look,” he commanded.

Carefully, Draco moved to the President’s desk, taking the picture. _He knows, he knows everything, something is wrong!_ Draco thought in panic.

The picture showed a woman, maybe 40 years old, that was unmistakably Ariana’s grandmother.  The same white-blond hair, the same differently coloured eyes, the same beautiful, yet intimidating face.

T he woman, just like Ariana, was without any doubt a relative of Grindelwald.  _ And Schwartzsteen knows. He met Grindelwald, and still married her.  _ _ And Grindelwald knew it too, he saw something in his visions. _

Draco was being played, by Grindelwald and by Schwartzsteen. The only question was…

“Now, my boy, tell me the truth and stop taking me for a fool. I think you succeeded apparating to Austria. Just not to your mum’s cottage.”

S wallowing down the rising panic that threatened to overcome him, Draco looked up from the picture. “ Yes, I met – and released – Grindelwald in Nurmengard.  But you knew that already, and I’m still talking to you.”

S chwartzsteen scoffed. “I knew it two days ago, when Ariana told me she had a dream,  a vision. She is a seer, you know. Inherited it from her great-grandfather, my father-in-law, Grindelwald.”

_ A ria Grauthal is Grindelwald’s daughter – but that makes no sense, why would Grindelwald send me here, now? _

“In her vision, she saw an old man who looked just like her. Ariana doesn’t know yet, but I have to tell her soon. I knew Grindelwald would come, I knew it when he spared me all these years ago. I knew it when I married his daughter.”

“Why hasn’t she freed her father, why me, why now?” Draco asked quietly.

“No idea. If Aria knew who she was, she never told me. She died in childbirth. And Fiona, she never knew, never asked.

“But we will find out, boy. I will meet with Grindelwald.”

Nothing made sense anymore. “You, the President, will meet with Grindelwald – while the world thinks he is still in prison, you will meet with him?” Draco asked in disbelief.

“He is my father-in-law, I want to know what he has planned. And you will set it up, you know where he is after all.”

“Grindelwald told me I should return to Nurmengard on Monday.”

“Well, then we will wait till-” A knock on the door.

“What is it?” Schwartzsteen said curtly. A man opened the door, “I’m sorry to interrupt Sir, but there is an unappointed visitor, he said you were expecting him.”

“What? Who?” Schwartzsteen said, his brows furrowing.

“He said you would know who, Sir. He said to tell you, eh… _Grüße aus Österreich_ , or something like that.”

“Let him in!” Schwartzsteen said quickly. For the first time, Draco saw signs of nervousness.

“Well Draco,” he said to him, “it seems he played us all, as expected.”

  
  


A  few seconds later, a man entered, together with Ariana. He had short black hair and looked around thirty, at best.

After the door closed behind them, the man snapped his fingers and transformed. Short black hair becoming longer white-blond, brown eyes becoming black and white – his face changing to Grindelwald’s.

“Herr Schwartzsteen, after so many years – finally.” Grindelwald said, grinning.


End file.
